


Exhibit

by dolce_piccante



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Artists, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunk Sex, Fluff, Group Sex, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Orgy, Recreational Drug Use, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 104,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolce_piccante/pseuds/dolce_piccante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur are art students at the prestigious Maryland Institute of Art. And they hate each other. Or do they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freshman and Sophomore Years

**Author's Note:**

> American AU set in Baltimore, Maryland that takes place over the course of their entire art school career, including the summers in between. A lot of the restaurants/spots mentioned are actual Baltimore spots, too.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of total fiction that belongs to me. No offense is intended and no profit is made. Please do not translate or repost my work without my written consent.
> 
> Written for the super fun Uni Merlin Fest! Huge thank you to the mods of that fest, who were AMAZING and fun and so helpful! Prompt is listed at the end of the fic. Thanks for the OP for her super cool prompt. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to M and B for bit reading and being cheerleaders! This would not have been possible without sweet D, who is the most supportive, strong, wonderful person. Thank you for all your help and endless patience and cheerleading!
> 
> Enjoy!!
> 
> [ Lovely fic rec by nokomoko!](http://nokomoko.tumblr.com/post/115046543830/exhibit-by-dolce-piccante-summary-merlin-and) <3

## 

Freshman year

**Tuesday August 19**

Ice breakers were the Devil's work. They were horrible, cruel activities designed to loosen up groups of strangers by finding out everyone's favorite food or shoe size, which were clearly very important details when trying to make friends. In reality, they were awkward games that only prolonged the awkwardness among awkward strangers.

“I'm Merlin Emrys, I'm from Portland, and I'm a painting major. And I'm, um...” 

His brain raced like a flipping dictionary. His sudden panic made little sense, as he had spent the entire course of the game trying to pick the perfect word, eliminating words when other students used them and sifting through words he deemed too silly for the occasion. 

“Magical,” he stated with a slight upwards lilt to the word. 

A boy with shining brown locks two people away from him laughed openly. Merlin let out a small giggle as well. Gwaine, he remembered. Gorgeous Gwaine. He lived on his dorm floor. Maybe the ice breakers were actually working, as he remembered the boy's name. 

The bespectacled man nine students away from Merlin smiled at him, his hand absently brushing a small maroon paint stain on the knee of his black pants. 

“Very good, Merlin,” Professor Gaius said, nodding. 

Professor Gaius was someone the freshman class would know well. He was their advisor, someone to stay with them all four years of college. The other students in the room would also become familiar faces. In their first year at Maryland Institute of Art, of MIA for short, all students took basically the same classes. Prerequisites in liberal arts and requirements for their degree and things like that. It was in later years that they would focus on their majors. 

The professor looked at the orientation group of students. 

“Well everyone?”

The group shared a quick look of discomfort, pointed at Gaius, then chanted in unison,

“Grand Gaius,” they pointed to the next person in the circle, “Patient Pierce, Mysterious Maggie, Energetic Erin, Laughing Lisa, Sleepy Sam,” the architecture major legitimately was falling asleep during the 9:00am orientation, “Loyal Lance, Fair Freya, Gorgeous Gwaine,” that one pulled a few quiet giggles from the girls of the circle, “Jumping John, Magical Merlin.”

“Well done,” Gaius remarked, smirking ever so slightly. He directed his attention to the rather pungent fellow sitting next to Merlin, his stringy black hair matted to his scalp. “Continue, please.”

While the student announced that his name was Thomas, not something that started with an S and could be matched to Stale or Stank or something more appropriate, Merlin glanced around the remaining students. He'd already chatted with a couple of students who were on his dorm floor. Moving your life into a tiny box on the hottest Baltimore day in August caused a bit of bonding between them. They seemed nice enough. 

Then there were a few bunches of students who seemed to know each other ahead of time. So far, four of the students had been from New York, with a few others from Maryland. Either they had met through their local art scene or they had gone to school together. It wasn't uncommon.

They had been forced to mingle at a lunch the previous day, and Merlin was sure he had heard everyone's voice. When trying to impress lingering professors and advisors, one tended to babble about the most ridiculous topics. At one point, Merlin had tried to break the silence by mentioning how he had grown to prefer watching television shows on his laptop, instead of on a television. Really riveting stuff.

As the name chanting continued, Merlin did a quick calculation of who was left and how much time remained. They had yet another group meal, a brunch this time, to attend in less than five minutes. He studied the remaining students and counted in his head.

He caught eyes with a blond seated directly next to Professor Gaius. Their gazes only crossed when said blond deemed him worthy of a look, then continued on to the student next to him. His pouty lips were pursed in concentration. Merlin blinked.

He hadn't heard that one's voice yet. Not during the lunch from hell yesterday. Not even to chant everyone's name and description word. And from the dedicated look on the blond's face, he was counting students himself.

“Son of a gun,” Merlin whispered to himself, eyebrows furrowing.

Merlin sat up straighter in his seat, blinking rapidly. The next time they chanted names, his voice was stronger than ever. They just had to get to the smug blond. It was only fair. 

“Well, then,” Gaius said, standing up, “we will have to wrap this up early.” He smiled at the blond next to him. “We will all have to learn at a later date just what word you were planning on using, Arthur Pendragon.”

Merlin watched the blond's lips quirk in a nearly invisible smile, standing and stretching his arms over his head. 

Arthur Pendragon. 

He memorized the name in his head, next to the definition of: dodger of ice breakers. Arthur Pendragon's tight white v-neck rode up on his stomach. Merlin stretched his own arms over his head. His eyes went a little hazy. Dark wash skinny jeans hung snug and low on Arthur Pendragon's hips. 

“If you all will follow me, we'll walk together to our brunch.”

Merlin blinked and felt Gwaine's presence next to him.

“Should I call you Magic Merlin?” Gwaine asked, bumping their shoulders together. Merlin flushed and laughed softly.

The students shuffled behind Gaius. Merlin and Gwaine fell into step together. 

“Oh, shit,” a soft voice whispered, accompanied by the clinking of an entire brown hobo bag overturning and emptying its contents on the floor. 

The two boys stopped walking and turned back. A pretty, brown haired girl was kneeling on the floor, her pink leopard print iPhone case scattered in pieces all over the polished white marble floor. Brushes and a multitude of lipgloss containers rolled around her feet. Without speaking, they stepped away from the group and got to their knees.

“We'll help, Fair Freya,” Gwaine smiled. Merlin smirked down at his bundle of colored pencils; he could already tell Gwaine would be a suave talker. 

“Oh thank you,” the girl gushed, gathering the rest of her belongings into her arms. 

Merlin's back was to the retreating group when he giggled, “Anytime.” 

“I like your scarf,” she commented, reaching out. Soft fingers brushed over Merlin's red scarf, his cheeks tinting pink. “Makes your eyes looks crazy blue.”

. . .

When no one was looking, Arthur stepped away from the group. He leaned against a wall, breathing quickly, his hand flat on his stomach. His palm was damp against the soft fabric, his fingertips trembling. He ducked into a restroom that was empty.

“Okay,” he breathed, resting his hands on a sink top. He hung his head, eyes shut tight. He focused on air, in and out, clean and cool. “Okay.”

He turned the faucet on and cupped water in his hands. He splashed his face, letting it drip into the brushed steel sink. He rubbed his eyes, nudging the sink off with the top of his fist. 

“Okay,” he repeated. He patted his face with a paper towel, breathing deeply. “Okay.”

He emerged from the bathroom refreshed. The knots of anxiety in his stomach had loosened, though he still felt sweaty all over. He got in line for the brunch bar. He stifled a groan; his little bathroom break meant that most students and faculty were already in line. He'd be lucky to get a handful of grapes at this rate.

The man in front of him turned around.

“Hey, um, Arthur, right?”

He blinked at the student, his eyes a warm, friendly brown. Arthur swallowed and nodded.

“Yes?”

“I'm Lance. Architecture major.” He waited for Arthur to say something, his hair swooshing around his face. Was there a fan in here somewhere? “We live next door to each other? At 101 Charles?”

Arthur's stomach unknotted, a small smile stretching across his face.

“Oh, right, hi, yeah,” he said, nodding. He gestured for the student behind him to move ahead, he and Lance stepping to the side. “How's it going?”

“Fine, but,” he held a plastic glass filled with fizzy gold liquid in Arthur's direction, “do you want this?” He looked around nervously. “Some woman came up and handed me this. I don't think she realized I was underage.”

“I don't think they care much,” Arthur laughed. “They've had alcohol at each freshman activity and I've yet to be carded.” He held his hand out. “But sure. I'll take it off your hands.”

“Great, thanks,” Lance said, and Arthur could feel that he was actually grateful. “How's everything going so far?”

Arthur shrugged and got on the end of the line.

“Alright. I hate introductions,” he admitted. It felt good to say it aloud. He'd barely spoken to anyone since he'd gotten there, but Lance seemed trustworthy. “I just...I just want to get going, you know?”

“Absolutely.” He scratched the back of his head. “I can't believe I said Loyal Lance as my, you know, thing in the game.”

Arthur smiled at the faint blush dotting Lance's tanned cheeks.

“Nah, don't worry about it.” He grabbed a plate. “Good choice of a word.”

Someone sighed from behind them. Arthur looked over his shoulder, big blue eyes staring him in the face. He briefly studied the man's sharp cheekbones and ridiculous ears, then turned back to the food, Lance already a few steps ahead of him. 

“I'm gonna get a water, you need anything?” Lance asked, his plate loaded with fruit.

“No, I'm alright,” Arthur said. “I'll meet up with you later.”

“Cool.”

Lance patted him on the shoulder and left, Arthur standing in front of a cheese platter. He bit his bottom lip, weighing his limited options. There was another sigh from behind him. 

Refusing to play into whatever the blue eyed diva was huffing about, he took his time in choosing. His feet remained planted to the floor. He took the serving knife and held it on top of the small sliver of brie that remained. He could hear the person behind him hold their breath when he placed it halfway through; that would mean at least half the brie would be left for the huffy brunet. His lips twitched not to smile. He moved the knife closer to the rind, another sigh brushing the back of his neck. Then he moved it back to the middle.

“Oh God,” was groaned quietly near his ear, more air brushing his neck.

Arthur didn't turn to look at him, but asked, “There a problem?”

“Sorry, just starving,” the blue eyed boy said, scratching the back of his head. His stomach grumbled as if on cue. Arthur blinked at him, uninterested. He took that as an invitation to continue babbling, “I woke up late and didn't want to be late for orientation so I skipped breakfast. Was a poor choice.”

Arthur turned back to the food. He cut the brie right up to the rind and lifted it in the air.

“Of course,” was giggled behind him. “Go right ahead. Annihilate the brie.”

“Don't mind if I do,” Arthur said, moving his plate closer to the cheese.

“You're serious?”

Arthur looked at the student, face still the picture of boredom. 

“I believe the question should be, are you serious? You need to relax. Your blood sugar must be low.” He perked up and nodded his head towards the table. “Quick! Eat a banana.”

The boy laughed, his head thrown back. Arthur studied his neck; is wasn't an altogether horrible sight and sound combination.

“So, to review,” his eyes sparkled with laughter, “you're going to take all of the brie for yourself?”

Arthur smeared the serving knife along his plate with lazy determination, his stare never faltering. Merlin rolled his eyes, which were no longer laughing. Someone had seen the You've Got Mail garnish scene one too many times.

“Typical.”

“Typical,” Arthur repeated, bored, pawing a generous handful of water crackers into his dish. He hummed. “How so?” He pinched a bunch of grapes and dropped them into his plate. Merlin stayed close to his side, picking up his own bits and bobs of food. “Do you often bully people at wine and cheese functions? Must do wonders for your social life.” 

“No,” Merlin said with a tight smile, mentally adding brie hog to Arthur's definition. The air between them crackled with irritation. “Just the douche bags who hog all the good cheese.”

“Now, now, it's not my responsibility that MIA skimped on the brie, uh...Whoever you are.” Arthur's clear eyes blinked at him, lips pursed forward ever so slightly while not even making an effort to remember his name. “Ian Idiot? Michael Moron? Was that it? Ah well,” he sighed. “No need for vulgarity.”

“I believe Hopkins is a few blocks north on Charles,” Merlin countered, grabbing the last bunch of carrot sticks before Arthur's grubby mitts could get to it. There was something about the blond that was so prickly to him, not even a hint of give or playfulness to be found. “I'm sure you can still make the first lacrosse practice of the season if you make a run for it.”

Arthur took a long breath in, held it, then sighed it out. He pinched Merlin's cheek.

“Oh, you.”

Then he turned from Merlin and walked away; not a care in the world with his perfect ass bouncing happily. Merlin opened his mouth to say something. Gwaine appeared at his side and patted him on the back as he rummaged over the remaining cheddar cubes, mumbling something about art chicks tits.

A few paces forward, Arthur said to Gaius, “Great spread, sir. Love the brie,” loud enough for Merlin to hear. He turned to walk backward a moment. He popped a cracker with cheese into his mouth, smiling with his mouth closed. “Seriously delicious.”

He turned his back on Merlin again.

“That guy is such a dickhead,” Merlin seethed, Gwaine giggling. “What's his concentration? Being a prick?”

“I believe it's ceramics,” Gwaine said calmly. “Which means you'll probably never have to speak with him. Do you even know him?”

“Well...” Merlin's voice sputtered. “I...He didn't...No, I don't,” he resigned.

Gwaine put his hand over his mouth, cheddar cubes stuffed so tight inside they threatened to spill out the corners. 

“He seems cool enough.” He smirked at the tight line of Merlin's neck, quickly glancing to Arthur across the room. “And fuck if he's not my jock fantasy come to life.”

Merlin scoffed, then scoffed again, Gwaine switching to stand in front of him. Merlin was totally blocking the remaining melon slices.

“He must love looking like that when sponsors come a calling.”

“Hey, hey, man,” Gwaine said, gyrating his hips against Merlin's hip. “If you've got it,” he shoved more cheese into his mouth and spoke with his mouth open, “work it, baby.”

That broke Merlin from his funk, a loud laugh shaking his stomach.

 

**Wednesday August 20**

“And then he tells me to go to lacrosse practice at Hopkins!” Arthur laughed, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He bent his leg and hugged his right knee to his chest, wiggling his butt into the navy blue lounge sofa. “I mean,” he laughed airily, “what the fuck is that supposed to mean? What a meddling little dick.”

Sophia smiled at him, tilting her head. She held his cheek with her right hand.

“You know,” her large eyes went from chin to forehead, “you do sort of look like you should be at Hopkins.”

Arthur snorted and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What?”

“Well, you're all,” she waggled her fingers at him, “beefy. And sporty looking. And blond. Look around.” 

She gestured at the sulking artists and slender hipsters that littered their dorm common room. Approximately half of the students had dyed black hair, while the other half had a variety of colors. Even Sophia's hair was a mix of strawberry blonde and wild blue streaks. Arthur was the only natural blond in the bunch. 

“You have a certain...Unique look.”

Arthur fell back on the sofa and sighed, burying his face in his hands.

“How am I the unique one among a crowd of people who make it their business to be unique?” 

“Um, because,” Sophia held out the word before brightly answering, “you're unique?” She smiled at him and squeezed his bare right foot. “Was that the right answer?”

Arthur dropped his hands from his face, staring straight ahead. He pulled his foot away.

“I'm going to the studio.”

“But classes haven't even started yet,” Sophia said, fumbling for her admissions binder. “Was there an assignment? Shit, I knew I forgot something other than underwear.”

Arthur offered her a small smile and stood from the couch.

“Relax. Nothing is due. I just need to think.”

“Don't let him upset you, Arthur,” Sophia's voice floated to him. “You probably won't see him for another four years. Not until graduation.”

. . .

Merlin waited at the main studio desk. Though he'd only been there about a week, he had already mapped out where his favorite studios were. He hitched his messenger bag higher on his shoulder, iPhone headphones dangling from his ears. As the song changed he heard a sigh. He turned his neck slightly, the blond cheese hog standing to his left. 

Instead of his skinny jeans and thin tee, he was wearing a baggy black tank top that hung low, the arm holes nearly at his mid-ribs. His arms looked sturdy and his sides were muscled, his biceps pushing his arms slightly away from his body. Equally loose grey track pants covered his bottom half, his bare feet long in a pair of worn black flip flops.

Merlin rolled his eyes and faced forward, resting his forearms on the desk.

“Hello, Merlin,” Mr. Killy said warmly. Merlin smiled at the older gentleman, a steaming cup of tea in his hand. Mr. Killy nodded at the insufferable twat to Merlin's left. “And Arthur. Lovely to see both of you again.”

They both braved glances at each other, quickly looking forward when they caught eyes.

“Same studios?”

“Yes, please,” they both said.

Mr. Killy turned to the wall of keys, both pointer fingers poised in the air. He grabbed a blue key labeled 203 and a red key labeled 506. He twirled both on his fingers and turned back to the students.

“Very rare for two freshman to be so diligent during orientation.” He smiled at both again and handed the keys over. “MIA is lucky to have you.”

Merlin smiled, Arthur smiling next to him. They caught eyes again and both cleared their throats, steeling their expressions.

“Thank you, sir,” Arthur said, accepting the red key. 

“Yes, thank you,” Merlin said. “Will be back in a few hours.”

“See you boys then!”

They walked towards the door, their shoulders bumping together. They tried to go through the door together, both grunting and stepping backwards. They looked at each other, paused, then both went again. It was the exact same effect. Mr. Killy's amused giggle could be heard behind them.

“After you, sir,” Merlin said, bowing deeply at the door.

Arthur said nothing to him, just trotting ahead with his damned ass swaying in his sweats.

“Thanks, man,” he said breezily over his shoulder.

 

**Friday August 22**

“You did...Not so good today.”

Merlin bowed his head, cheeks flaming bright red.

“I'm sorry. I swear I can do better.” He steeled his face and looked up at Mr. Hsu. “Should I even come back?”

Mr. Hsu handed him a small stack of cash.

“Here are your tips.”

He turned away, Merlin standing in the doorway of Mikado, Baltimore's hidden gem of sushi restaurants. It was literally hidden in the basement of a larger building of offices and restaurants.

“So...”

“We will see you Monday night for dinner shift,” Mr. Hsu said, adding a quick nod before he disappeared into the kitchen.

Merlin blinked at his boss (Former boss? Current boss? Did he still have a job after his first day?) and then looked at the stack of tips in his hand. He smiled confusedly and shrugged. He took the steps up to ground level two by two. The rich smell of coffee caused his feet to pause at the building exit. He rubbed his fingers over the cash and grinned.

He hurried into the cafe.

“Donna's,” he read aloud, holding the door for an elderly couple shuffling out. He smiled at them, both nodding in his direction.

He walked up to the counter. A petite girl with the most beautiful skin he'd ever seen turned to help him.

“Hi, welcome! Can I help you?”

“Hi,” Merlin replied, smiling and reading over the chalkboard menu. “I think I'll just do a coffee with two sugars and a bit of milk.”

“No problem.”

She hummed to herself as she poured him a cup. As she filled the paper cup, she frowned.

“Sorry, did you want to stay or,” she turned too quickly to face him, “to-go--” Hot coffee splattered over the marble bar and Merlin's black button up shirt. Merlin just stood there in shock. Her hand flew to her lips. “Oh no!”

“It's okay,” he laughed, grabbing a pile of napkins from the milk bar. She rushed over with a dish towel, patting his chest so hard it was as if she was doing an internal exam. “Seriously,” he started to sop up the coffee on the bar while she kept trying to dry him, “I'm fine. Only a splatter.”

“I'm sorry, I just started last week and I'm just doing the worst job,” she softly blurted out. 

Merlin laughed again and patted her shoulder.

“I just started today at Mikado and I dropped a tray of drinks on my bosses head.”

She laughed, “How did you manage that?”

“I'm just that gifted,” he said seriously, nodding while his lips twitched into a smile.

“I'm Gwen,” she said, going for a handshake. His eyes fell to her hand. She followed his gaze and flushed. “Oh, gross, I'm so gross.” She dropped the coffee soaked towel on the bar and rubbed her hand over her black apron. “Let me—I think we have hand sanitizer in the back, I've just--”

“I'm Merlin,” he said, pulling her into a hug. She squeaked and froze, then melted against him, her head resting on his shoulder. “And you're doing a wonderful job, Gwen.”

She giggled against his shirt.

“I think we're going to be friends, Merlin,” she sighed. 

 

**Saturday August 23**

Orientation continued, with more activities focused in each discipline. The painting majors went with the other painting majors. The architecture majors went with the other architecture majors. The fashion majors went to the mall (with the other fashion majors). And so on and so on.

Students mingled in the dorms. The temperature grew outside until the streets were practically steaming with heat. Clothing was scarce. Sex erupted like wildfire, everyone eager to take advantage of the free time before classes began. Orientation week parties ran rampant, whether they were in the apartments of generous older students or warehouses abandoned in Baltimore. 

“Wanna go someplace quiet? To talk?”

Merlin smiled into his solo cup, sipping his sixth vodka soda. 

Benjamin was a dark haired, light eyed, rail thin junior who chatted Merlin up in the school cafe two days ago. He was sort of cute and smelled like clove cigarettes. He was a graphic design major. He took his coffee dark and sweet, the same as Merlin. 

He was also fondling Merlin through his jeans, his lips brushing against his neck while he murmured possible orientation activities for them to take part in.

“Sure,” Merlin giggled, leaning into his mouth. 

Warm, slow sucks dragged along the tendon of his sweating neck, his head pleasantly fuzzy. House music blared with random images projected on the warehouse walls. Merlin's white low v-neck tee stuck to the damp skin of his chest, the smattering of dark hair on his chest showing through. 

“You know a place?”

Benjamin grinned and nipped below his ear, his fingers looped in Merlin's brown leather belt. 

“I'm sure there's a free room around here somewhere.”

Merlin fell into step beside him, downing the rest of his drink. Though he craved for classes to begin, and had been sure to balance party hours with studio hours, he could get used to this. Cheap access to booze, endless parties, and easy access to sex with hot artists. Throw in the mimosa brunches that he, Gwaine, and their small group of new friends had been indulging in, and you had quite the memorable orientation.

“C'mere,” Benjamin's deep voice floated to him.

He was led down a hallway where the music seemed to be even louder. Hot hands wandered up the front of his shirt. He blindly sucked on Benjamin's thin lips, his body pressed against a wall. Tall pieces of spray painted sheet rock and raw metal didn't quite reach the ceiling, but served as walls for each studio. They tumbled into an open door, lips biting and sucking at each other.

They hit a soft surface Merlin thought was a bed. A large bare foot pressed against Merlin's neck, the bed rocking beneath his body. Was that the booze? His eyes curiously opened.

“Oh,” he gasped, Benjamin flattening on top of him. His lips were pried open, momentarily distracted by his wet tongue. Merlin moaned and pulled at Benjamin's shirt, still hotly kissing him. Benjamin left his lips to suckle his neck. It was then that Merlin murmured, “People.”

He looked towards the top of the bed and saw a perfect, round ass clenching as he thrust into someone. The whole body looked perfect; naked as can be, endless tawny tan skin, and glistening with sweat. He craned his neck more and gulped when he saw a head of thick blond hair. Benjamin lifted him from the hips and moved him up on the bed, the two couples laying side by side.

“Hello there,” a pretty Japanese girl laughed, her voice breaking off into a moan. Her head fell back, her legs pushed closer to the mattress. The perfect ass thrust faster, his broad back muscles rippling with each rhythmic push. “Ohhh, fuck me.”

Benjamin was on his knees between Merlin's legs, sucking his head through his damp boxer briefs. Merlin groaned and laid back on the bed next to the two other people having sex. His boxer briefs were pulled down to his knees. He heard a deep grunt next to him, the girl screaming at the top of her lungs. 

“What are you doing in here?”

Merlin opened his eyes, face to face with the orientation game dodger. His voice was rather gruff, firm, yet confused, sweat dampened blond fringe falling in his eyes. He looked at the guy's ass, a deep laugh sounding over the girl's screams. 

Another group stumbled into the room and fell onto the bed next to the blond and the screamer, Merlin grinding into Benjamin's mouth. The room felt hot and stuffy, but not unpleasantly so. 

Merlin relaxed on his back while Benjamin sucked harder, faintly aware of the Japanese girl gripping his hair. Someone kissed his neck from the right side; a member of the other group who just stumbled in, perhaps? 

Even with the music pounding and bodies writhing on every side of him, he could smell the blond's sweat so clearly. He was spicy and musky but still clean, as if he'd showered not long ago. He smelled of heat and clay and sex. He opened his eyes and watched drops of sweat trickle from under his well muscled arm to the smooth flank of his side, wet paths leading to his lightly haired groin.

His shirt was worked up his chest and pulled over his head, fingernails scratching over his nipples. Someone with a beard kissed him on the mouth, another person removing his right shoe. Merlin arched his lower back and groaned. Benjamin's mouth sucked to his balls and Merlin cried out, reaching down to jerk himself. He shivered wildly.

“Like that?” Benjamin shouted to him, fingers gripping Merlin's bare hips. 

“Fuck yeah,” Merlin breathed, whimpering when Benjamin lathed his tongue over his balls yet again.

Someone hummed near his ear. Merlin leaned into the hum, turning his head. He snagged the Japanese girl's full lips, both smiling into a messy kiss.

“I'm Amy,” she said, the blond pinning her hands over her head. Her breasts were still covered in a sheer neon pink bra. “Nice to meet you.”

“Merlin,” Merlin replied with a giggle, the new friends kissing again. “You taste like berries. Mmm,” their lips kept sucking, “fucking delicious.”

“Hey,” the blond grunted, still thrusting hard. He pinched Merlin's leg. “She's mine.”

“Fuck you,” the girl laughed at him, kissing Merlin again. “I'm no one's. And he's hot.”

“We're going to be best friends,” Merlin laughed, his hands on the back of Benjamin's head. The music swelled in his ears, his climax licking the bottom of his spine. “Fuck yeah,” he groaned, Amy licking his neck, the blond's mouth panting near Merlin's ear. 

He felt like everyone in the world was in this room and they were about to see him come. That thought only made him harder, his hips rising to meet each suck. Merlin gripped the tempting blond hair near his face for a moment, Arthur shooting him a death stare. 

“Aw, what's wrong? Never learned to share as a child?” Merlin taunted, Arthur shaking his hand off.

“What's your major?” Amy yelled to him between ecstatic moans. She cupped Arthur's cheeks, encouraging him, “Fuck, you're good—What was your—Oh!” Amy's entire body arched, Arthur growling between her tits, her face blown open with pleasure. “OH! Oh FUCK me!”

“I'm a paint--Hey!” Merlin squealed a giggle, pulling his leg away from the bottom of the bed. Orgasm washed over him as a debilitating, body shaking wave, his stomach clenching before he shouted jibberish, spilling into Benjamin's mouth. He panted for a moment, Benjamin nuzzling against the dark hair between his legs. Merlin giggled uncontrollably, lost in the feeling of someone licking his bare foot. “That tickles! I'm tick--” 

Blackout.

 

**Sunday August 24**

Merlin leaned over his bed and vomited into his desk garbage can. He had no idea how it was pre-set next to his bed. Magic maybe? 

Then Gwaine spooned him from behind and he relaxed. His head pounded and his stomach turned, but at least he had clean sheets and a cuddly new friend.

. . . 

Arthur's eyes blinked open to slits, crust gluing them together as he was assaulted by sunlight. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach. He felt a rush of air and--

“Ow,” he grunted.

His entire body slammed flat on the floor. He squirmed against the rough carpet under his bare chest. The more he squirmed, the more he realized he was bare all over. He attempted to turn his head, fighting the twinge in his neck. His eyes opened wider while he took in his surroundings.

His parched lips whispered, “Where...”

“Hello,” a voice cheerfully said from above.

Arthur turned onto his back, his eyes still wide. He stared at the small breasts of the blonde girl who greeted him, a sorcerer tattooed between her breasts.

“Hi,” he said. Another female leaned over his greeter. She had purple streaked black hair and was a bit curvier, with no tattoo but with both nipples pierced. They shared a kiss, both smiling, then directed their attention back to Arthur. Arthur swallowed and smiled nervously. “Um...”

“Are we gonna fuck again before breakfast? I need to know if I have time to get eggs.”

Arthur looked at the other female who entered the room. His brow wrinkled. Was her bush shaved into a red mustache? How could he forget that?

Still, he had no recollection of meeting (or doing) either of them. He heard masculine sounds from behind the bed duo. A muscled arm with red hair looped over the girls, his deep voice humming sleepily.

“I wanna do him before we eat.” Thick fingers beckoned at Arthur. “C'mere, blondie.”

Arthur grabbed his boxers and held them over himself.

“Yeah, I think I'm gonna go,” he stated simply. He picked up his shoes and stood from the floor. He bent over for his jeans. “But thanks for...Uh...” He backed towards the door, offering the naked girl at the door a quick smile. “Yeah...”

 

**Wednesday September 10**

“I just feel so stupid,” Gwaine muttered against Merlin's pillow. He hugged it to his face. It smelled so Merlin-y, like shampoo and a little bit of paint. “Everyone else knows what they want to do here, but I can't make up my stupid mind.”

Merlin's voice chuckled, “You're not stupid,” from the hallway.

Gwaine turned onto his back, toeing his flip flips off. He rested his hands behind his head.

“It's only been a week of classes and I just feel...Wretched.” He wiggled his lips. “Maybe I should shave for good luck.”

“You're nervous. It's natural. Don't worry about it.” Merlin paused. “Shave which body part?”

“Face.”

“I can't imagine you without stubble. I think you should stay the way you are.”

Gwaine hummed, weighing the option by tilting his head side to side. 

“I guess.”

He heard giggling from the hall. He furrowed his eyebrows and rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. He rubbed his long toes together.

“What are you even doing out there?”

Merlin appeared in the doorway and Gwaine's jaw dropped.

“What are you doing!?” he laughed, sitting up on the bed.

Merlin laughed and stepped closer, his right hand holding a coconut scented votive candle, his left balancing a plate of chocolate cake.

“Your birthday passed right before orientation, and you're bummed out, so,” Merlin jutted the cake forward, “here you go!”

Gwaine stood up and wrapped his arms around Merlin, cake and votive and all.

“Did you really write, 'Gwaine is awesome!' in sparkly pink frosting on top?”

“I did,” Merlin snuffled on a laugh.

“Oh, my Magic Merlin,” Gwaine sighed, holding him tighter. He pecked Merlin's temple, pulling another giggle from the slender man in his arms. “The MIA gods were smiling upon me when they made us neighbors.”

“Gwen donated a large iced Americano to your awesome celebration, which is in my fridge, because she had to work and couldn't be here.”

“I love everyone!” Gwaine squealed, thumb swiping through his sparkling pink name.

 

**Friday September 28**

“What are you doing here?”

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to look towards the curious, yet irritating, voice that grated at him from the coffee bar.

“I'm getting a drink,” he said, stepping up to the register. He pulled his wallet from his tight jean back pocket. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Merlin rested his chin on his hand, squinting at the blond.

“No. I just didn't think anyone from school came here. To this cafe. To Donna's.”

Arthur rolled his eyes in Merlin's direction. He blinked at the painter.

“Thank you for stating the name of the cafe we are both located in.”

Merlin smirked.

“Well, some of us are a bit slower than others.”

“Also, it's a fifteen minute walk. Did you not think that some students might journey further than a fifteen minute radius from school?”

Merlin shrugged, sipping his mug. 

“I just can't imagine someone like you making an effort for anything.”

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. A pretty, petite girl with curly brown hair appeared from the small kitchen. She placed a piece of chocolate cake in front of Merlin, a scoop of vanilla ice cream melting on top. 

“Here we are,” she said, both sharing a smile. She winked. “On the house.”

“Thank you, Gwenny Gwen.”

“Thank you for bringing me secret sushi today,” she whispered conspiratorially.

Arthur cleared his throat. It was obvious they knew each other, but he didn't have all day to watch Merlin suck up to a barista. She looked to Arthur. Her face flushed, a nervous smile on her face. 

“Oh, sorry! I'm on my own this shift and I didn't hear you come in.” She hurried to the register, pulling a pencil from her bun. She grabbed a pad from the countertop. “What can I get you? Food? Coffee? To stay or, uh, to go?”

“No worries,” he said. “I'll just have a large coffee with two sugars and just a bit of cream, thanks. To go.”

“Merlin, that's the same as you!” the girl laughed. “You even say it the same! You say bit of cream!”

Merlin and Arthur did not laugh with her. They just stared at her, their faces hardened and tight.

“Oh, uh,” she cleared her throat, itching her messy bun with a pencil. She slid it back into her hair. “Alright. Will get that right away.”

Arthur sat on the very last bar stool. He turned his back to Merlin, who was loudly eating his cake.

“This is fucking amazing, Gwen.”

“Ugh, I can hear that you are talking with your mouth full,” Arthur butted in. “Disgusting.”

Gwen smirked at the sight of them, sliding Arthur's coffee onto the bar.

“I take it you two know each other?”

Both men refused to answer. Merlin shoved another bite of cake into his mouth and Arthur placed a twenty on the counter, waving her away when she went for change. Gwen leaned on the bar between them, smile growing.

“I met Merlin when he stumbled in here after his first shift at Mikado,” she offered.

Merlin hissed, “Gwen,” and Arthur could see his eyes bulging without even turning around. His annoying voice explained to Arthur, “Gwen is a flute student at Bilt, the music--”

“Conservatory,” Arthur finished for him. “Yes, I'm aware. I do live in Baltimore too, you know.” Before Merlin could say anything else ridiculous or insulting, Arthur said, “I've got to be going.” He stood from the stool, offering Gwen a small smile. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Gwen flushed, her fingers skittering across her collarbone.

“Was nothing at all. Come back anytime.”

 

**Thursday October 10**

The cafeteria was hopping at the height of lunch. Students hurried in to grab a quick bite to go while others sat buried in books with one hand sketching and the other hand shoveling food into their mouths. Then there were the more image conscious students, who preferred to sit on the smoker's deck that ran along the cafeteria, a cigarette and cup of coffee their meal for the afternoon.

Arthur dipped a lump of sourdough into his cup of chicken soup, eyes glued to his dogeared copy of The Walking Dead: Book 1.

“I don't remember being assigned that for Ancient Lit,” Anderson, a strikingly dark and handsome graphic design junior, said as he sat next to Arthur. He tipped the cover to read. “Ah, one of my favorites. Maybe I would have paid more attention in class.”

The blond blushed faintly but smiled. He shut the book and tucked it under his actual reading assignment.

“I needed to take a break from cave paintings.”

Gwaine sat down next to Arthur, nudging their shoulders together. Arthur's lips flickered into a smile. 

“Hey,” he said, Gwaine smiling at him with a mouthful of pizza.

Merlin sat across from Gwaine, already forking salad into his mouth. When his gangly legs settled under the table he looked at just who had decided to sit with. He slurped a piece of lettuce into his mouth, a chickpea falling from his fork back to his loaded salad bowl. Arthur's lips snarled in disgust, Merlin crunching shyly with his hand over his mouth.

“Ooh, zombies,” Gwaine giggled, reaching over Arthur's tray. He snagged the book and flipped halfway through. 

Arthur dunked the rest of his bread, letting it float in the remaining broth.

“The proper term is walkers,” he said in a faux snooty voice. 

Merlin's face twitched at his salad, a neutral, dull expression quickly replacing his half smile. Gwaine laughed and turned the page. He snapped his fingers and looked across the table.

“Merlin, you've got this one, yeah?”

Arthur looked bored at his cave paintings while Merlin nodded. He quickly swallowed his soggy bread.

 

**Monday October 15**

“Did you do the reading?”

Merlin nodded sleepily, pushing his notes towards Gwaine. He sipped his large coffee.

“Thanks, man,” Gwaine whispered. He leaned over Merlin's notebook, hand wrapped around his coffee. He sipped quickly then winced. “Shit, man, you take this so sweet.”

Merlin just smiled and leaned back in his seat. He covered his mouth to yawn, craning his neck around the eight-thirty Elements of Visual Thinking class.

When Professor Gaius had mentioned that by October class attendance would drop by about seventy-five percent, he wasn't kidding. Merlin was shocked Gwaine even decided to attend. Some students just continued to party as if it was orientation week, others deemed classes not necessary for their artistic journey, while others just couldn't handle waking up for a morning class.

He saw familiar faces scattered around the large room. Of course Arthur Pendragon was there, looking sleep softened but still annoyingly put together in his uniform of a dark tank top and slim jeans. He and Merlin, like all freshman, shared most classes but their studios and electives. He'd yet to miss a single class.

Arthur turned towards him, eyes narrowed. Merlin looked straight ahead, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Asshole,” he muttered softly. He could see Arthur stretching out of the corner of his eye, his fair hair swishing in a most distracting way.

“Who?” Gwaine said, sipping Merlin's coffee again. “You still on about Arthur?”

“No, not at all.”

“He's good,” Gwaine stated simply. “I saw some of his work when I sat in on the ceramics studio class. He throws pottery like a fucking pro. You should check his stuff out.”

“No, thank you.”

 

**Friday October 26**

“And who can tell me what this slide depicts?”

The class was silent, though two students raised their hands immediately, a blond and a brunet. Those two students looked at each other, glaring angrily. Professor Nimueh looked between Merlin and Arthur, a small smile on her face. Of course they were willing to answer. She cleared her throat and made eye contact with a few other students.

“Anyone?” Her request was met with more silence. She pointed to a girl in the third row. “Chelsea.” She leaned her right hip against her desk, smiling warmly. “We haven't heard from you yet today. Why don't you describe this slide?”

“Well, honestly,” Chelsea drawled slowly, her pen itching through her dark head of spiky hair, “I mean, it's hard to say.” She seemed to be drawing out every word, her low voice practically all fry with no actual tone. “I think the slide is....Quite hideous, honestly.”

Arthur heard a quiet, snuffled laugh nearby. He turned his head just a touch to the left. He caught Merlin's body shaking with the last of his little giggle, his hand over his mouth. As if he could feel someone looking at him in the dark classroom, Merlin looked over his shoulder. Their eyes met. Merlin smiled shyly at him, Arthur smiling back against his better judgement. He rolled his eyes, Merlin nodding in understanding before turning back to the board.

“I don't believe I asked for an opinion, but thank you for your offering,” Professor Nimueh said, Arthur biting down on his bottom lip not to burst out laughing. He watched Merlin's slender shoulders shiver with giggles again. “Now,” she clapped her hands together, “Chelsea, if you could please just describe what is going on in the slide, we can be on our way.”

 

**Wednesday October 31 – Halloween!**

The smell of fishy steam bellowed in Merlin's face. He grabbed two plates from the metal countertop and balanced them on his forearm. Salmon teriyaki and the nightly special, featuring sea urchin. He pushed his way out of the kitchen and grabbed a longer plate from the bar, this one decorated with colorful raw fish and dots of sauces.

“Looks so pretty,” he said in passing, the sushi chefs smiling at him in unison.

He placed the plates on his only table left for the night.

“Salmon with brown rice,” he placed it in front of an older gentleman with a pink ascot, “our special for this evening,” he said with a smile, placing it in front of a middle aged woman with wild red hair and a toothy grin, “and our sushi combo C, with an extra eel cucumber roll. Can I bring you anything else?”

The table murmured their thanks, shaking their head for anything else. Merlin smiled wider.

“Great. I will be right back with more drinks.”

He went to the waitstaff station and grabbed a sweating pitcher of ice water. A strong hand landed on his shoulder.

“Merlin, you can go when they're done. Good job.”

“Are you sure?” He held the pitcher with both hands and faced his boss, Mr. Hsu. “If you think you'll get a rush after the symphony concert I'll stay around.”

“It's Halloween. This neighborhood will be shutting down in a matter of minutes for you young people to rip wild in the bars.” He patted Merlin on the chest. “You go. See you for the dinner shift tomorrow.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Merlin whispered excitedly. 

He finished up with his table, counted out for Mr. Hsu, and was on his way with almost one hundred dollars cash in his pocket. Apparently, people were extra generous while eating sushi on Halloween. He practically ran back to his dorm, passing the last of the costumed children on his way.

He stripped his jacket off the minute he was in his room. 

“Hey, man,” his roommate Mordred said, dabbing white makeup on his cheek. “Off early?”

“Yup. No leftovers tonight, though, sorry,” Merlin said. He pulled his shirt off and grabbed his shower caddy. “I figured I'd have to go late to the party,” he tripped a bit to toe his dress shoes and socks off, “but now I think I'll make it in time.”

Merlin slipped his blue flip flops on. Gwaine burst through the door wearing nothing but bright pink booty shorts and matching bikini top.

“Hey, do you guys have any Nair?”

Mordred and Merlin didn't bat an eyelash but shook their heads.

“No, sorry,” Merlin said, patting his bare stomach as he passed, Mordred applying a fake gash to his forehead. “Maybe check with one of the girls?”

Gwaine sighed, “They're all out,” and handed Merlin his blue towel. “I guess none of them wear short shorts.”

“Thanks,” Merlin smiled, dropping his pants. Gwaine followed Merlin to the showers, hopping to sit on the counter top. Merlin stripped his boxers off and threw them at Gwaine. 

“Nice ass, sushi boy.”

Merlin giggled. He pulled the curtain shut and turned the water on.

“Your underwear smell like rice.”

Merlin snorted under the stream of hot water.

“Stop smelling my underwear.”

“But Merlin, you working in a Japanese place means you and your clothing smell the most delicious.”

Merlin lathered up his chest, rubbing his hands under each arm and up to his neck. The bathroom door creaked open. Flip flops slapped against the tile. He heard Gwaine quietly say, “Hey, man, how's it going?” with the smack of two hands meeting in a quick shake.

“Yeah, right,” Merlin laughed loudly. “My balls smell like mochi.” He soaped up between his legs, watching water drag the suds off his dark hair and down the drain. He dunked his face under the water. He giggled, “Taste like mochi, too.”

As he shampooed his hair he heard the shower curtain next to him slide open, a quiet, “Ugh,” uttered in disgust. He A faucet turned loudly and the water in his shower went ice cold.

“Jesus Christ!” He pulled the curtain aside and stuck his soapy head out. His eyes widened when he saw a familiar sliver of peachy ass in the other shower stall. “What are you doing here? You don't even live on this floor! Or in this building!”

“Stop stalking me,” Arthur's bored voice said from next door. “My building was out of hot water and I'm fucking a girl on your floor.”

Merlin shivered and shut the water off.

“Thanks a lot, asshole,” he chattered.

He walked out of his stall, pulled Arthur's curtain, and shoved his way in.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Arthur asked, at least looking a little shocked and pushing Merlin away from him. His hand sunk into buttery skin, fingers slipping.

“I've still got shampoo in my hair and you have all the hot water,” Merlin said. 

He dunked his head under the stream. Arthur sighed dramatically, tapping his flip flop on the floor. Merlin lifted his head with a quick flip, spraying water hard in Arthur's face.

“Fuck you,” Arthur seethed, his fingers pressing over his eyes.

“Happy halloween,” Merlin giggled.

When they ran into each other at every single party that Halloween, they refused to speak. They spoke to their friends. They spoke to each other's friends. They would not speak directly to each other, but they did refer to each other often. 

Merlin declared that Arthur's Captain America costume sucked because it was basically just a t-shirt and jeans, Arthur insisting that Merlin was just showing off by wearing a shirt of a human's innards he painted himself. 

Arthur mocked Merlin's penchant for cranberry and vodka, Merlin complaining that he could smell Arthur's nasty Jager breath from a mile away.

“I mean, we had, like, a moment in class the other day,” Merlin slurred into Gwaine's shoulder, burping. “We, like, looked at each other. We didn't die.”

“Thank the lord for that,” Gwaine said. He adjusted himself in his bikini. “Fuck, I'm cold. Not my junk, by my feet are a bit chilly.”

Merlin looked down on their walk back from Fells Point.

“But...You have shoes on?”

“Hm.” Gwaine looked down. “I do.”

A wild blond blur jumped on Gwaine's back.

“Gwaaaaaaine!”

Gwaine burst out laughing, his entire face lit up. He reached onto his shoulder and wrapped his arms around Elena, swinging her to his front.

“Hello, my little sugar lump! Aren't you the prettiest zombie in all the land?”

Merlin wandered to the front of their group, grinning at Gwaine and Elena's drunken babbling. He listened to Mordred ramble about some girl he'd talked to at a party; she tried to get him to join a cult or the occult or something. Merlin eventually tuned him out. He rubbed his fingers between his eyebrows, a headache setting in. 

Without realizing it, he broke away from their group, instead walking with another group that was not heading back to MIA. He just kept walking, yawning a couple of times. It wasn't until he looked up from the sidewalk that he realized he was alone. 

“Huh?”

He turned in a circle, scratching his head. Somehow he had managed to get within a couple of blocks of his dorm. But where was everyone else?

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, feeling for his key card. He could just make mac and cheese when he got back to his room, no need to stop at one of their late night haunts to get snacks.

“Hey,” a voice said from beside him, a strong body glued to his side.

“What the fuck!” Merlin exclaimed, shoving him away.

“It's me, you idiot,” Arthur said, holding Merlin still. “Just walk.”

Merlin's face wrinkled, his body pulling away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You stink like jager, ugh, barf.” Arthur led Merlin to his dorm building. “You don't live here,” Merlin said, wrenching his arm away from Arthur. “What the fuck is this? Brie thief, hot water thief!”

Arthur sighed and jerked his head backwards.

“You were being followed by that guy, genius.”

Merlin looked over Arthur's broad (stupid, Captain America t-shirt wearing) shoulder. He saw someone slink into an alleyway. His stomach dropped. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Maybe you should remember we're in Baltimore, not whatever tiny town your sorry ass is from,” Arthur's voice said sternly. “You should be more careful. He followed you all the way from Center Street.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said, throat dry and rough. He looked at Arthur's face, his eyes wide. “Um, I guess...Yeah, I just...I--”

“I'm not expecting a thank you, so you can save your breath,” Arthur said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Merlin watched him go at a fast paced walk. Arthur checked the street for cars then broke into a jog, rounding the corner to his own building. The door buzzed behind Merlin.

“Oh thank God! I was so fucking worried!”

A soft, hairy body threw itself at Merlin's back. He smiled nervously and sank back into Gwaine's torso, his body dragged inside by his floor friends.

 

**Monday November 5**

The first Freshman Exhibit took place two full months into the term. Each concentration held weekly studio classes, but that was divided by subject. It was safer. It was a more gentle way to grow used to constructive criticism. 

The class exhibit was a showcase for the best of the best, in this case the freshman class. It would be held every first Monday of the month. You had to be nominated by your private instructor and approved by the overall faculty in ordered to be featured. It would happen monthly for their entire college career, but to give the freshman a head start, they were given extra time to get their pieces together.

Arthur stood in front of painting, his arms crossed in front of his chest. It was large in size, but seemed...Boring. He'd already seen so many modern art charlatans while at school, and they weren't even done with the first semester. He slowly made his way to the next painting. Sophia followed him, both sipping their small glasses of wine. He blinked at the piece and felt himself shiver, his eyes blinking faster.

“Like this one,” he murmured softly to Sophia, one hand in his pocket. He couldn't take his eyes off the canvas. The colors were muted and the artist wasn't afraid to leave some of the canvas untouched. It made the art all the more the focal point. “Something about it,” he continued, eyes taking in the gentle burst of light that surrounded the shadow at the top of a street. Was that the Washington Monument? “It's...Hopeful. Exciting. Sacred, even.”

She hummed next to him.

“I think that's the artist.” She nudged her chin across the crowded gallery. “He's rather cute. His name's Merlin.”

Arthur followed her gaze and saw Merlin laughing at something a man with wild long hair said, a glass of white wine balanced between long fingers. His expression soured.

“I take that back.” He sipped at his own glass of red wine. “I've seen better art in the lobby of a Marriot.”

. . .

“Merlin, what about this one?”

Merlin followed Gwaine to the next piece of pottery. He tilted his head, biting his bottom lip.

“Dunno. It's just...I don't know what it is. I don't find it all that impressive. But I know so little about all this,” he laughed. “I want to go back to the paintings.” He looked longingly to the easels and canvases across the room. “It all looks the same to me.”

“Don't be silly,” Gwaine said, taking Merlin's arm. He pulled him to the final piece from the ceramics department. “And this one?”

When Merlin looked back his breath left his body. He froze in place, Gwaine silent next to him. 

“It's...”

Merlin stepped closer, squinting. 

“It looks like...It's the same color as my eyes,” he said softly, eyes trying to take in each and every smooth curve that led to a slender top. “And it's not...It's not just a bowl.”

“No, it's not,” Gwaine murmured. “And I can't even imagine the science behind that glaze. How the artist got such a vibrant blue.”

“Yeah, it's...” Merlin wanted to touch it, and he never wants to touch ceramics or pottery. “It's truly--”

He noticed the small tag that read Arthur Pendragon on the stand holding the art.

“It just looks like something you'd buy at Target,” he said quickly. “Or Kohls.”

Gwaine's mouth popped open, Arthur stepping up next to his art.

“Target?” he ground out.

Merlin looked at Arthur's bright red face, his lips snagged between his teeth. The brunet smirked and shrugged, walking away from the pottery exhibit.

 

**Wednesday November 14**

Merlin flipped his easel paper to the next page. He picked up his pencil and easily sketched the model's next position. The seat next to him was empty, but the next easel over was taken by Arthur, who was huffing as he turned his page. Merlin's eyes strayed from his sketch to Arthur's, which was quite wild and loopy. He leaned closer to whisper.

“Do you need help?”

Arthur glared at him, clutching the pencil in his hand like a dagger.

“No,” he snapped, frowning far too seriously for a Figure Drawing I class. “Keep your eyes to yourself.”

“Charming,” Merlin snorted.

**Monday December 3**

“Arthur Pendragon,” Gaius boomed, smiling wide. “Why don't you tell us about this piece of yours?”

Arthur felt sweat break out on his forehead. He looked from student to student, stomach in knots. He hardened his lips into a line.

“I'm a potter, so taking a lot of classes this semester in different concentrations, painting and sketching and such, was eye opening. I wanted to make a collection of cups to express the range of emotions I felt through the process of learning.”

Classmates murmured their support of Arthur's submission for the freshman exhibit that month. Merlin bit both of his lips while he studied the delicate, colorful pottery cups. Fuck, he hated how good Arthur was. How creative. How logical. It made disliking him all the more difficult when he was actually an artist, not someone attending art school to get wasted on daddy's dollar.

“What class does the red cup represent?”

Arthur's lips quirked in a small smile.

“Figure Drawing I.” His eyes darted to Merlin, who was squinting at the red cup with a jagged ridge. “I struggled with it.”

“Very honest, Arthur,” Gaius said, moving towards the next piece. “Thank you for sharing.”

 

**Thursday December 20**

Arthur pulled the door to his studio open, sweat dripping down every inch of him. He had to kiln a few pieces before the winter holiday started. 

He stepped into the hallway. Cool air burst over his skin. He lifted his arms and ran his hands through his hair, clay spreading through the sweaty strands. The damp skin under his arms clung to the edges of his baggy black tank. He walked towards the lounge, still rubbing his hair. 

He fished a few quarters out of his loose jeans pocket. The school was deserted, as finals had ended yesterday, but he didn't fly home until tomorrow. There was no reason not to take advantage of the empty studios. 

“For fuck's sake,” a tired voice said as he approached, a loud bang following after. 

He walked up to the soda machine carefully, tiptoeing as quietly as he could in his flip flops. He peeked into the lounge with his body hidden. 

Merlin sighed and rested his head on the machine, his hand pounding a soft rhythm near the quarter slot. Arthur rolled his eyes; the boy was truly useless. He opened his mouth and took a step forward, but the machine clunked. Merlin let out an excited little squeal, Arthur smirking before he could control it. He stepped backward as fast as he could, but Merlin walked out of the lounge before he could get away. Startled blue eyes settled on his face, Arthur frozen. Merlin snorted.

“You've got clay in your hair.” His hand lifted to touch the wild blond mixed with tan putty. “You look like There's Something About Mary.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes and ducked past him.

“It's good to see you here after the semester ended. God knows you need the work.” He put his quarters in the machine and selected Sprite. He could feel Merlin's energy still behind him. He looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“I was going to say Merry Christmas, but then decided against it,” Merlin said sweetly, shrugging. “Continue your earth shattering work of making something I'll eventually buy to hold my pasta.”

All through the winter break both Merlin and Arthur worked daily on their art. They would never tell each other that, of course. 

**Wednesday January 9**

Arthur dragged his finger along the trackpad, bored out of his mind. He yawned, sprawled on his stomach on the fur blanket draped over his king sized bed. His father had insisted they go to Aspen for the entire winter holiday, then promptly locked himself up in his Aspen based office, leaving Arthur alone in the house. One could only ski and snowboard so much.

He scrolled down his Facebook newsfeed. A few of his friends had commented on a photo, though he wasn't friends with the person in the picture. 

“Stupid new features,” he grumbled. He'd have to check Gizmodo for any new tips on how to remain private on Facebook. He clicked on the photo and rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

It was a photo of Merlin with two guys on either side of him, grinning like an idiot with confetti bursting in the air above him. His trusty friend Gwaine was there, kissing Merlin's cheek, but Merlin was full on kissing another dark haired guy straight on the mouth. He hit the back button and resumed his browsing. He didn't have time for Merlin's show off antics.

 

**Saturday February 9**

“Gwen!” Merlin said, lifting his hand. “Hey!”

Gwen held onto her black clutch, body sagging in relief. She smiled, walking quickly towards him. She smoothed her deep violet dress down, her black heels clicking against the floor.

“Hi,” she said softly, standing on her toes to peck his cheek. He threw his arms around her, hugging her tight. She breathed in his cologne, his black jacket soft against her cheek. She pulled back, noting his crisp white collared shirt. “You look amazing.”

“Aw, thanks,” Merlin grinned. He held her at arms length. His smile grew. “You look beautiful!”

She flushed and smiled at him.

“You're sweet.” She looked around, audibly clearing her throat. Her smile faded. “Everyone here is so skinny and fierce.” Her worried eyes found his. “I feel so boring. I bought this dress in Macys two years ago.”

“Nonsense. You look amazing and that's my final word.”

She giggled, still nervous but a bit looser. He guided her to the bar. One good thing about going to art school was that when they threw a gala the students were usually invited, and they could then bring friends as guests. That meant free food and an open bar.

They arrived at the crowded bar. Merlin spotted a familiar friendly face and squeezed in next to him.

“Hey Lance,” Merlin said with a warm smile. Lance smiled at him, holding his hand out. They shook hands. Merlin enjoyed running into Lance at the studio once in a while, though they had really hit it off during a group project in their Elements of Painting I class. “How's it going?”

“Good, good. I feel like we're always waiting in line for free food and drinks,” Lance said. Merlin chuckled, Gwen laughing softly next to him. “I guess that's, uh,” Lance's eyes strayed from Merlin's face to Gwen, “an artist thing.”

“Oh, Lance, uh, this is my good friend Gwen,” Merlin said quickly. “How rude of me not to make the introduction.” He pulled Gwen closer, the musician fitting sweetly into the crook of his arm. She smiled at Lance then looked down. His dark red shirt and tight black pants made her face resemble the color of his shirt. “She's an amazing flautist from the Bilt and my unofficial, but stunning, date for the night.”

“Hi,” Lance said, his body turned fully towards Gwen. Their hands bumbled together. They finally managed a handshake, Gwen's face bright pink. “It's great to meet you.” Their hands were still together. Lance blurted out, “I love music.”

“I love art,” Gwen said, giggling. “And music too. Obviously.”

Merlin looked from Gwen to Lance, his lips trembling not to laugh. First year in Baltimore and he already made a perfect match. 

“Oh,” Lance said suddenly. “You work at Donna's, right?”

Gwen's brows furrowed a bit, though she was still smiling.

“I do. Why?”

“Arthur's mentioned you,” Lance explained. He smiled at Merlin. “He always rants and raves whenever you two run into each other there.”

Merlin blanched, eyes wide.

“What?” he laughed. “We've only seen each other there a handful of times.”

“Well, it was obviously enough to make quite the impression,” Lance said, he and Gwen sharing a knowing look. Lance chuckled softly. “God, do you rile him up.” Merlin gawked at them, both at Lance's statement and at the looks they were sharing. How could they already be able to do that when they've just met? “But yeah, he mentioned that the barista Gwen makes wonderful coffee.”

Gwen blushed again.

“I just really like to make sure there's a good grind right from the start.”

Merlin's mouth popped open. Lance blushed a bit and smiled.

“Is that so?”

“I mean,” Gwen said, flustered, when she replayed her most recent declaration. “Coffee. Beans. I like to grind coffee beans. It's therapeutic.”

“I understand completely,” Lance said, his large hand on her upper arm. 

Merlin saw Arthur approaching, looking far too polished in his expensive black suit. His cheeks felt hot, his body turning in a circle. He looked for an escape. He was boxed in on every side by a person, his back against the bar.

Arthur smiled politely at Gwen and leaned in, pecking her cheek.

“Nice to see you here tonight, Gwen. You look lovely.” He glanced from her to Lance. “You've met Lance, I assume?” 

Merlin wrinkled his nose just a bit; Arthur even talked like a twat, all proper and fancy.

“Oh, yes, we've just met,” Gwen said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Always nice to make new friends.”

Arthur smiled wider, nodding. He could see the excitement in Lance's eyes from across the room. He just had to come over and investigate, his best friend's happiness palpable.

“Yes, very true.” He made eye contact with Merlin. His smile dropped. “And you? What are you doing here?”

Merlin sighed and turned away from him. The night was young and he needed a drink. Gwen and Lance looked from man to man, then to each other. They smirked and rolled their eyes.

 

**Wednesday February 20**

“Wanna compare portfolios?”

Arthur groaned into his pillow with his eyes still shut.

“No,” he rasped. He could feel bare skin pressed against his back. Two tits, to be more specific, and a mouth that bit at the spot where his neck met shoulder. “I'm trying to sleep before class.”

“You're no fun,” Kayla said, kissing his neck. “C'mon, I wanna show you my work.”

Arthur sighed and insisted, “Let's not mix up school with this.”

“But I wanna know what you think!”

“Kayla.” Arthur looked over his shoulder, his hair falling in his eyes. He squeezed his pillow, his shoulders flexing under her face. “Let's not mix it together.” His lips curved into a sly smile. He slid his hand onto her stomach. “We're having fun, right?”

She bounded naked off his bed and grabbed a sketch book.

“C'mon, I'll show you really quick! It'll be fun!”

Arthur sighed even longer and buried his face in his pillow.

 

**Thursday February 21**

Merlin spooned himself a mouthful of vegetable soup, highlighter poised in his hand. He highlighted yet another line of dates. Liberal arts requirements were boring, but relaxing in a way. He'd made a habit of getting a lot of his studying done in the cafeteria, and especially liked doing it on Thursdays. Thursday was vegetable soup day. Gwaine said the soup smelled like rank BO, but Merlin couldn't get enough of it. He would run from his Art and War class, which truly wasn't that boring, and get the first cup of soup. The cafeteria woman on Thursdays, named Susan, would wink and give him extra crackers.

“He's just—Ugh, I can't---I just---Ugh!! Asshole!”

A muffin bounced on the floor next to his table. He looked up from his notes, confused. He looked around the empty cafeteria and placed his hand over his soup cup. How was he being an asshole? 

A pale girl with flowing black hair stomped past and another muffin flew in his direction. Kayla, he thought. She liked California rolls and nothing else whenever she came into Mikado. Merlin ducked down, dodging the flying chocolate chips that splattered off the table.

“Psycho,” was breathed behind him.

He turned around. His brows dug together at the annoyed looking blond.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Avoiding,” was all Arthur said. His hand shot out to slap a muffin from Merlin's head. Merlin gawked at him, then looked at the furious brunette (who was about to flash the cafeteria if she wasn't careful while flinging baked goods.

“Well, go away. Shoo!” Merlin dodged another muffin. “What's with the fucking muffins?”

“I bought her breakfast.”

Kayla stood in front of Merlin's table, her hands on her shapely hips. 

“And then dumped me!” she shouted, raising her hand. Another muffin (which appeared to be banana nut) was poised to be launched. “Get away from Merlin, dickhead, so I can fucking nail you! He's innocent!”

“Yeah, get away, dickhead,” Merlin said in agreement. “I'm trying to study.”

Arthur threw his hands up and sprinted away, muffins flying at his the back of his head.

 

**Monday March 4**

The next time both Arthur and Merlin were featured in the Freshman Exhibit was in the early spring. Winter had come and went, finals passed and the Spring semester started off with a bang. Now that the class was firmly into their second semester, Professor Gaius felt comfortable opening the floor to criticism, not just gentle chatter.

“And this one by young Elena?” he asked, looking up to a sky high installation sculpture featuring thousands of white paper butterflies.

“I think it's very ambitious and brilliant,” Gwaine said, winking at the glowing artist in question. Elena flushed and winked back at him.

A few other students murmured comments, mostly positive, some asking questions. Merlin stayed silent, squinting up at the piece. He saw Arthur from across the room and rolled his eyes. Arthur looked brainless as usual.

“And let us move on then to this piece. An offering from the ceramics department.” 

The freshman class moved to a wide podium. A tall red column with pieces cut out stood tall. Merlin gaped at it, the sides appearing to be melting into the ground. The top, however, was jagged. Somehow the artist had made a stagnant object look dynamic, as if it was both melting into the ground and trying to escape to the sky.

“This is amazing,” someone said softly.

Arthur said nothing, his clenched fist over his closed mouth. He stood stiffly to the side, bags under his eyes. 

“How did you...How did you even make this?” Gwaine asked. Merlin's eyes flew to him. Traitor! “It's incredible.”

“Uh, thanks, um,” Arthur started to say, his voice harsh. He cleared his throat. “I threw it, spun it, then worked it by hand. A lot of it was just patience. Then I had to fire carefully, as it's so tall. That's it.”

Chatty Chelsea drawled, “But the color? How did you get it to be so vivid?”

“Yes, your last collection was mostly blue.”

Arthur shrugged.

“I was feeling red that day.”

“Such a stunning color for pottery,” Gaius said, setting off a group chat about pottery and Arthur's work.

For whatever reason, Merlin's neck flushed hot. He swallowed hard. Their other classmates all murmured their feedback, all positive. 

“Anyone else?” Gaius said, looking around the group. His eyes fell on Merlin. He smiled wide. “Merlin? You're usually quite kind, yet critical.”

Merlin felt everyone's eyes on him. He looked at the sculpture, then to Arthur. Arthur's face was tight, his throat bobbing.

“It's...” Merlin shrugged. “I have no feedback.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“I didn't ask you for any,” he countered. “Not that it would mean a damn thing to me.”

Their classmates looked from artist to artist, Merlin's mouth opening for a reply. Gaius stepped between them, smirking.

“Now, now, boys. We have other pieces to look at.” 

 

**Thursday March 28**

Arthur stared at the spinning lump of clay on his potters wheel. It just continued to spin. The water on his hands started to dry. His fingers wiggled slightly in the air. He eased his foot off the pedal. He could only look at a spinning ball of clay for so long before he lost his mind.

 

**Monday April 1**

“I love it,” Sophia gushed, hugging herself. She basked in the colorful glow of Merlin's piece. “It's just...It makes me feel happy.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said shyly. “I appreciate the feedback.”

“It looks sloppy to me.”

Merlin glared at Arthur, his jawline twitching. For his part, Arthur looked bored; bemused. He shrugged one bare shoulder. Luckily the weather was warm enough for him to resume his tank top habit.

Gaius noticed Merlin's tense posture and pressed, “Care to elaborate, Arthur? Perhaps to explain your feedback?”

Arthur squinted at the canvas, swirling his hand in the air.

“It just looks like mess to me. A total mess.” He made deliberate eye contact with Merlin. “Like a bowl of neon pasta or something.”

Merlin bristled at that.

“Are you serious?” he asked tightly. His jaw twitched. “Bringing up my pasta bowl comment?”

“Does the painting not look like a mess of pasta?” Arthur calmly answered his question with a question. His lack of emotion only spurred Merlin's irritation. “Is this your version of an April Fool's joke?”

“You two are both insane,” Gwaine interrupted, laughing in a most delighted way. Merlin and Arthur glared at him. “Seriously. It's a good painting. Arthur,” he looked at the blond, “your piece did not look like a bowl for pasta.” He held one hand out to each of them. “We all have big dicks here. Alright?”

“Yes, well,” Gaius said, coughing to cover his laugh.

“Not all of us,” Sophia quietly commented.

 

**Sunday May 11**

“Merlin!” Gwen said, her smiling face lighting with visible relief. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice!”

“Anything for my coffee queen,” he said on a giggle. She pecked his cheek, his arm snug around her upper back. “So, what's on the menu?”

“Just a preparatory string studio recital. But there are supposed to be tons of donors in the audience, so my boss flipped out when we were so short staffed.”

He accepted a gleaming gold named tag from her, peering at it as he fastened it to his black button up. 

“Ah, so I'm,” he tilted his head, “Gary today?”

“Yes, you are,” she said quickly, lifting a box of royal blue paper programs. She balanced it against her hip and smirked at him. “And if anyone asks, your name is Gary and you are a horn player from Texas.”

Merlin trotted alongside her.

“Do I have to do an accent?”

She laughed over her shoulder, Merlin carrying a matching box of programs.

“So, yeah. Same as usual. I'll take the right aisle, you the left.”

“I do tend to swing to the left.”

Gwen giggled again, then quieted down when a group of men in suits looked in her direction.

“How did I manage to meet someone like you?” she whispered to him, placing her program box on the floor. “Charming, talented, and able to usher like a champion?”

“You're just lucky my mom raised me in a theater.” He smoothed his shirt with his palms. “And that Mikado is next to Donna's.” He offered her a warm smile. “That was a stroke of fate. Delicious sushi and iced latte based fate.”

They moved to their sides of the theater, Merlin smiling at everyone he handed a program to. Though he wasn't a student at the Bilt, he spent enough time with Gwen and filled in for enough absent ushers that he felt pretty familiar with the school layout. He was so busy directing parents and students to the restrooms that he didn't even take notice of the program. 

The lights dimmed a few times with soft tones sounding in the background. How cute, he thought, that they did the whole pre-performance routine, even for the prep kids. He and Gwen shared a smile from across the theater. 

A few more programs and the lights went dark. The audience applauded once the dean of the preparatory stepped out onto the stage. Merlin made his way towards Gwen, faintly listening to the dean's speech. Apparently it was an exciting semester for students and faculty alike. Merlin was more focused on being able to sit with Gwen and enjoy the music and air conditioning for an hour.

They stayed standing and leaned against the half wall that separated the orchestra seats from the back aisle. The performers started off as young children, their small hands flying over the strings and tiny brows furrowed, but the age of performers eventually grew older.

“This should be pretty cool,” Gwen whispered, studying the program. “This semester there were a lot of adult students in the prep that just took lessons. I think that's awesome they just want to learn.”

Merlin nodded, a woman who looked to be around sixty taking the stage for her viola performance. He rested his chin on the fleshy part of his hand, his elbow bent against the half wall. He smiled and relaxed his body. 

Applause pattered when the woman finished. Merlin clapped along with them. He looked to the program in Gwen's hand. He blinked.

“W-What?” he sputtered in full voice.

A few shushes came his way, even amongst applause. 

Arthur Pendragon walked out of the stage door, lips twitching into a small smile as he glanced at the audience. His cello was held close to his body with the bow firmly in his other hand. Instead of his normal tank top, low slung sweats, and bare feet, Arthur was wearing a black collared shirt and black pants, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. His skin looked golden under the bright stage lights, his hair glinting nearly white.

“What is he doing here?” he whispered to Gwen.

Gwen read over the program, confused.

“What's the problem?”

“He goes to school with me,” Merlin hissed. “He is such an arrogant prick. You know him! Lance's friend.”

Gwen turned to the second page of the program. Her eyes scanned over the biographies.

“Oh, it's--” She looked to the stage, eyes widening. “Arthur” she whispered, surprised. “I've never seen him here, but the prep usually has lessons during off hours.” She tapped her pink manicured fingernail against the shiny program paper. “It does say here that he's currently a student at MIA.” Merlin read along with her. “Apparently he played in many youth orchestras back in California, and has studied privately since he was ten.”

Merlin's eyes wanted to roll, his mouth wanted to scoff, but Arthur was playing so beautifully, his body swaying with such a natural, musical sensuality, that he said nothing. He couldn't even comprehend what he was hearing and seeing. 

Arthur's body wrapped around the instrument, much like what Merlin imagined he looked like curled around his potters wheel. His strong arms held the instrument upright or the bow horizontal, his chest heaving gently with breath. His fingers vibrated from note to note, up and down the fret, across the thick, metal strings.

It wasn't until the audience started a strong round of applause that Merlin realized the piece was over. He applauded along with them, Gwen smirking at him before looking towards the stage.

The concert wrapped up a couple of players later. 

“Please join us for our end of the year reception in the Chase Lounge,” the dean announced, prompting another round of applause. “Have a wonderful summer and we'll see you in September!”

Gwen and Merlin carried the leftover programs back to the box office. 

“Are you going to come to the reception?” Gwen asked, straightening Merlin's black shirt.

Merlin shrugged, itching behind his head.

“I dunno. I should probably go back to school and work on something.”

“Merlin Emrys,” Gwen said, gently slapping his shoulder. She grinned. “Are you nervous to see Arthur?”

“What!?” He laughed loudly, shaking his head. “Are you nuts? Of course not! I just...Maybe I should work on a piece or--”

“You've already done all your finals and your jury. I think you can take a little break for free food.”

Merlin smiled.

“I do love free food.”

“So,” Gwen threw her arm around him, “let's go!”

Merlin walked with Gwen to the Chase Lounge. It was filled with parents and students of all ages, along with smiling teachers hounded by groups of children eager for feedback. Merlin made a beeline for the food. He almost laughed when he saw who was in front of him in line.

He took a plate and quietly added a few snacks. The Bilt usually had delicious little apple pastries, flaky and buttery and perfect, which was something that MIA receptions lacked. He approached the cheese selection and smiled. 

Maybe it was the buzz of music in his veins, or the ease of being done with school for a few months, or the fact that he was already notified via email that he aced all of his finals, but whatever goodwill was flowing through him made him quietly speak to the person in front of him.

“Still hogging all the good stuff, I see.”

Arthur glanced to his right, eyes slowly scanning from Merlin's fingers to his face. He found Merlin to be smiling just a bit.

“Oh, look, the cheese bully has returned just in time for summer vacation,” he said, hint of a smile twitching his lips. He popped a green grape into his mouth. He chewed while saying, “And he's followed me to a school he doesn't even attend.” His swallowed and his eyes fell to Merlin's chest, eyebrows furrowed. “Your name is Gary? Hm.” He moved on to crackers. “I never knew that.”

Merlin followed him to the next food station. He snagged the second to last finger sandwich. It was chicken salad. Not his favorite, but it would do.

“Please. We've gone to the same school for an entire year. You know my name.”

Arthur scooped some ranch dip onto Merlin's plate. Merlin furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the creamy blob.

“I didn't want that.”

“Whoops,” Arthur said, adding a handful of pastries to his plate. He heard Merlin's loud intake of air and grinned, grabbing more. Apple pastries must be on par with brie in terms of Merlin's favorite snacks. His body turned to block Merlin from the desserts. “These little apple ones are my absolute favorite.”

“You can't possibly eat all of them,” Merlin insisted quietly on a scoff. “That would be too much.”

“I definitely can. Didn't have breakfast.” He popped one into his mouth, chewing and smiling. He hummed orgasmically and shut his eyes. “They're delish as ever.”

Merlin shook his head, jaw set tight.

“You're seriously doing that?”

“Here, you can have one,” Arthur offered. He lifted one from his plate and plopped it into the pile of ranch. He couldn't hold his laughter in when Merlin's jaw dropped, his eyes wide with sadness. “Oh God, you big baby, here,” he gestured to the plate of desserts, “have at it.”

“Now I don't want one,” Merlin sniffed, looking around Arthur's other side. He plucked a cannoli from the platter. “I'll go without. Wouldn't want you to starve to death.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said firmly, planting in front of him. 

He gripped Merlin's cheeks, causing his mouth to pop open, and placed an un-ranched apple pastry inside. Merlin's eyes widened, sweetness exploding on his tongue. Arthur gently shut his chin, gripping the bottom with his thumb.

“Now is the chewing part,” he whispered.

Merlin started to chew. The warmth of Arthur's hands still holding his cheeks made his spine feel liquid, the clean nip of his cologne settling in his nose. He swallowed, somehow able to taste apple and smell heat all at the same time.

“There, now.” Arthur's thumb swiped next to Merlin's lips. “All better.”

He patted Merlin's chest and moved away. Merlin licked his lips, watching him swagger up to a group of students. He turned to find Gwen, angrily shoving another pastry in his mouth.

“Who is that, Arthur? A friend?” Arthur's teacher Mr. Nebov asked, watching Merlin walk away from the blond. 

“He's...” Arthur shoved an apple pastry in his mouth, shrugging. He swallowed and mumbled, “He's a student at MIA, sir.”

“Ah, I see.” Mr. Nebov sipped his espresso. He looked from Arthur to Merlin, both boys eyeing each other in the least sly way possible. “Is he any good?”

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who quickly looked back to Gwen. He shrugged.

“He's...Not horrible.”

Mr. Nebov raised an eyebrows, smirking at Arthur's discomfort.

“A glowing review.”

“He's a total idiot, though,” rushed out of Arthur's mouth. “Completely useless.” He looked at Mr. Nebov's amused smile. “I mean, uh, so,” he itched the side of his neck, “what are your plans for the summer?”

## Summer between Freshman and Sophomore year

**The 4th of July**

Merlin crossed his leg. The chairs at Mikado were comfortable for a meal, but not when you had to sit in one for almost two hours straight. Sometimes he wondered if he made the right choice staying in Baltimore alone for the summer, subletting an apartment from an older classmate who was traveling until September. It was lonely at times, though he was lucky enough to make friends at both of his summer jobs. Everything was a bit more spread out. He was just getting used to the constant friends that MIA provided, and summer was definitely a different vibe.

He scrolled through Facebook on his iPhone for the fifth time that shift. The lunch rush was quite the opposite of what its name proclaimed. All of Baltimore decided to pick that weekend to go away.

Mr. Hsu sighed at the bar, rearranging chop sticks.

Merlin's thumb faltered when he saw a colorful picture of a sunshine doused picnic scene in an album that Gwaine commented on. He licked his lips, biting his bottom one and rolling it between his teeth. 

He recognized the girl from the local bar scene; she was an artist too, but at least five years older than him. Her name was Lily, maybe? She had long dark hair and fair skin and wore (in Merlin's opinion) far too much eye makeup. It just couldn't be healthy for someone's eyes to be that caked with black stuff. She was smiling and being kissed on the mouth by someone who he certainly recognized. The strong jawline and shock of blond hair and bare golden skin that sucked up sunlight.

He snorted at the caption.

“Summer luvin,” he read aloud. He minimized the app and placed his phone on the table. 

 

**Friday July 27**

“Arthur! Shit, Arthur!”

Lance's sides ached while he howled with laughter. He stumbled over on the sand and tripped, Arthur holding his nose and groaning.

“Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry!” Lance said, still laughing. He reached for Arthur's nose. Arthur winced and pulled away, scowling. Lance offered him a crooked smile. “I'm so sorry, man! I thought you wanted me to pass to you.”

“I did,” Arthur's slightly nasal voice said. “But I didn't mean to spiral it into my face. Like, directly.”

“I'm so, so sorry.” Lance rested his hand on Arthur's shoulder, thumb rubbing over his skin. “I'll buy you an ice pop?”

Arthur smiled at him, still shielding his nose.

“Alright, fine, but I want a chocolate eclair.” Lance grinned, Arthur's sympathy routine wearing away. “Not one of those watery ice things.”

The boys walked up the dock towards the clubhouse. It was a stroke of luck that both Arthur and Lance were from California, with parents who chose to live near one of the most beautiful beaches on earth. Arthur's summer house was the perfect place for the students to retreat and relax.

Lance beamed when he saw Gwen sitting at their normal table, a Cubs cap shielding her face from the sun. Her hair stuck out from the sides, blowing wild in the breeze. He bounded up to the table and pressed his lips to her cheek, Gwen giggling and pulling him into a hug. She smelled of coconut and sunscreen, her skin warm to the touch.

Arthur shared a bored look with Lily, who was more interested in sipping her oversized Long Island Iced Tea than kissing Arthur hello. 

“I just got off the phone with Merlin,” Gwen could be heard saying softly to Lance. Her excitement was palpable, her voice quivering. Arthur sat down next to Lily, his arm slung around her shoulder. “He misses us, but he's doing incredible at his internship.”

Arthur's teeth clenched. Of course the little show off had to snag an internship his first summer of art school. Who does that? Most people understood that the first summer was meant to be wasted on beach and fun. Most galleries or companies wouldn't even look at a first year student's resume. But no. Merlin had to stay in Baltimore and work his stupid sushi job that he apparently adored (Gwen's word, not his) and intern at a rinky dink gallery in Federal Hill.

“He said that the gallery director offered a spot to him for a show next year, sort of a small thing, but still! How exciting!”

“That's wonderful,” Lance's warm voice said, another peck smooshed against Gwen's nose. She laughed and nuzzled against him. “He deserves it.”

 

**Saturday August 11**

“Merlin, c'mon, let's go out! Don't leave. I want to go to Central again.”

Merlin smiled and pecked Ian's mouth, ruffling his curly blond hair. He tucked his head into his navy blue tee, pulling it over his shoulders. 

“No, I can't tonight. Sorry. I've got a lot of work to do.”

“But school hasn't even started yet.”

Ian fell back on the bed with a huff. He crossed his muscled arms over his chest, pouting. His silver lip ring glinted in his dimly lit apartment. Merlin just smiled at him and buttoned his jeans.

“I've got to go.”

“For fuck's sake, Merlin, you never want to party with me anymore.” He huffed again. “All you do is work and paint and work and paint.”

“Paint is work and work is paint,” Merlin said over his shoulder, teasing lilt to his voice. 

Based on Ian's dead eyed stare the joke did not go over well. It was getting to be a little irritating to have a fuck buddy who was a good five years older than him but acted a good five years younger. What started as a late night hook up after his first night in a Baltimore gay club had sort of run its course over the summer. 

Merlin sat next to him on the bed, fingers stroking slower through his hair. He leaned down, his soft, full lips enveloping Ian's thinner ones. His tongue gently licked at his piercing, Ian moaning and wrapping his arms around him for a deeper kiss.

“Look, this summer has been really fun,” Merlin said softly, opening their lips together again. “You make me scream like a banshee in bed.” Ian cracked a smile at that. “And you're a really talented percussionist. But I'm sorry, I'm just not into a club scene.” He started to sit up. “It's too much of a pain in the ass because I'm not twenty-one yet.”

“Bullshit,” Ian laughed, flipping Merlin on his back. Merlin's eyebrows shot up, Ian straddling his hips. Ian's long silver chain swung forward, brushing over Merlin's nose. He pinned Merlin's hands to the bed, grinding his hips down just a touch. “With a face like yours you could get in wherever you want.”

Merlin blushed and scrunched his nose, shaking his head while he laughed, “You're crazy!”

They kissed hotly, Merlin grinding upward and groaning. Ian released his hands and wiggled his fingers on Merlin's sides, the brunet erupting in giggles.

 

**Sunday August 25**

“Seriously, dad, you can take off,” Arthur insisted, walking quickly to keep up with his father's brisk pace. “I know you've got work to do. It was nice enough you came to check in at the dorms but, as you saw, I moved in fine by myself.”

Since it was technically still summer, Uther had opted for a pale yellow polo with his khakis and brown boat shoes. Even in his casual wear he looked sharp and polished.

“Nonsense,” Uther scoffed. “I have to eat before I head back to the Miami offices. My flight isn't for a few hours. It only makes sense to get dinner.” He ruffled Arthur's hair, small smile in place. Arthur smiled at the sidewalk as they approached Mikado. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” He pinched Arthur's cheek. “Hot date already?”

“No,” Arthur laughed, wiggling his face away. “I just...I don't want to keep you.”

“You are my son and I love you.” Uther turned to face Arthur in front of the entrance. Arthur stared at the sky, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. He put both of his hands on Arthur's outer arms. “You will never keep me. We need to cherish the time we have together.”

There was a pause between them. Arthur's eyes prickled and he looked away. He couldn't meet his father's gaze, not then. His voice felt raspy, a lump settling in his throat.

“Dad,” was all he could say.

The summer at home in California went better than he could have anticipated, save for his breakups with a couple of girlfriends. He and his father were closer than ever thanks to a very gifted and patient family therapist.

Uther smiled at him, more creases appearing on the sides of his eyes. 

“Now, let's have some sushi.” He opened the door for Arthur, who was smiling, albeit a bit shakily. “I'm starved and I want to try this sushi place you love so much.”

Arthur nodded and walked into Mikado. Both stood at the front of the busy restaurant, their hands in their pockets with their weight resting on their left legs. Uther reached out and snagged a red and white peppermint from the candy dish at the hostess stand. His fingers made quick work of the crunchy wrapper. He popped it into his mouth.

“Want one?” he asked his son while loudly sucking on it, holding the dish his way. Arthur smiled wider, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Uther pocketed a couple. “Ah, well, more for me.” He sucked for a few seconds, Arthur scratching his neck. “So far, the mints are top notch.”

Arthur barked a laugh, Uther snickering at him.

They were seated in a table towards the back of the restaurant, near a calming collection of tubular lights along the wall. They were both studying their menus when Merlin came to the table.

“Oh, hi,” he said, blinking at Arthur. 

Sun kissed, blond as can be, ocean eyes, a touch leaner, Arthur. Arthur, who was wearing a white v-neck tee with sleeves for once. The blond's cheeks flushed, his eyes darting to his father. Merlin quickly remembered himself and smiled at Uther. 

“Hi, sorry, what can I get you both to drink?”

“I'll try,” Uther drew the word out, squinting at the smaller drink menu he held away from his face. “I'll have a Gin Rummy Tummy. It sounds...” He paused for effect. “Yummy.” 

Merlin chuckled softly as he wrote the order down, Arthur smiling and shaking his head.

“I'll do water, please, and I'll be right back.” He got up and turned towards the bathrooms. He turned back suddenly. “My order is on the--”

“--The sheet,” Merlin finished for him, picking up the order form. He and Arthur made quick eye contact. “No problem.”

When Arthur returned from the bathroom his rolls were already waiting for him, Uther slurping happily through a long straw. His glass was around the size of a fish bowl, with wild red liquid sloshing around. He sat in his seat, smiling at the plate.

“Oh, did you ask for this? I totally forgot. Thanks” 

“What?”

“These.”

He pointed to the small dishes of side sauces and avocado. Uther continued to slurp but looked confused, humming and tilting his head. Merlin whizzed by with a full tray for a large table in the very back. 

Arthur's eyes scanned over him. He looked a bit sturdier than last year, a bit taller, his hair longer. His eyes fell to Merlin's ass, which definitely was not nearly that...Firm, the year before. Bike riding, his brain reminded him. Gwen had mentioned that Merlin often rode his bike to Federal Hill for work.

Merlin's ass was replaced by his crotch in tight black dress pants. He approached their table, leaning over with a sweating pitcher of water. Arthur studied his neatly arranged rolls of sushi, grabbing chop sticks. The heat of Merlin's hip traveled to his arm.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thanks,” Arthur grunted. He could smell Merlin's laundry detergent at this close vicinity. He shook his head. Uther's lips popping when he released the straw. He lifted his empty fish bowl in indication.

“Would it be possible to drop some vanilla mochi into another one of these?”

## 

Sophomore Year

**Wednesday September 4**

“Where the fuck is everyone?” 

“Very astute observation, Gwaine,” Professor Gaius said without looking up from his sophomore seminar roster. “As I told all of you twelve moons ago, the class size will shrink and shrink with each passing year.”

Merlin looked around the classroom and frowned.

Though there were a few artists who seemed less than focused or talented during their first year, they were still good friends. They shared silly memories, they shared art, they shared a year of their lives. He'd seen a few cryptic statuses on Facebook about not returning. That made sense. But the class seemed devastated, at least cut down by half. 

He watched Arthur Pendragon's eyes scan in the opposite direction. Of all the students not to drop off, Arthur had decided to stick around. He also decided to start growing a very unfortunate scraggly beard, which Merlin secretly loved due to how truly hideous it looked. 

Along with his beard, Arthur grew a new girlfriend named Ava. She and Arthur now shared a fashion style, both wearing all black all the time, even in the stifling Baltimore heat. How strange, Merlin thought, that Arthur looked normal at dinner with his father but morphed into a goth for his week-long girlfriend.

Ava technically should have been a senior, but was still taking classes that were liberal arts prerequisites. So far Arthur had just stalked silently around campus with her, his beard looking more and more disgusting per day, Ava's hand always clutched in his own. Ava was not in class that day. Surprise surprise.

 

**Monday September 9**

“Tell us the inspiration for this piece, Merlin.”

Merlin nibbled his bottom lip. He opened his mouth to speak but winced almost imperceptibly. He looked away from his painting. 

“I mean, I worked in a gallery over the summer that focused a lot on Latin American art, so...I guess I was sort of experimenting with that style. I've got my first show coming up and there are a few pieces in this style.”

“It's a bit different from your style last term, that is certain,” Gaius said, scratching his chin. “More...”

“Ancient looking,” Lance said. He swirled his hand in the air in front of him. “Indigenous. Less impressionistic.”

“In a good way,” Gwaine offered, winking at Merlin.

Merlin smiled at the ground. 

“Alright, next piece,” he laughed, pulling his tee away from his damp chest. “Thank you for the feedback.”

His classmates tittered in amusement. When he looked up the first person he saw was Arthur, his eyes pinning him in place.

Before Gaius moved them to the next piece, Arthur asked, “Are you uncomfortable with the piece?” 

Merlin looked back to his painting. He shook his head.

“Not uncomfortable with the piece. Just...It's always scary to try something new. This is more structured than my older pieces.” 

He glanced at Arthur, who had not yet looked away from Merlin. 

“It's Peruvian inspired,” Arthur stated, blinking lazily. “Correct?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Merlin said, nodding. He offered him a small smile. “Good eye.”

Arthur finally brought his gaze to the painting, taking in the patterns repeated over the canvas in gold and black. He didn't say anything else, just staring at the canvas. 

“Are you into Latin American art?” Merlin found himself asking. 

Their classmates' heads lobbed back and forth between the two students.

“A lot of Latin American pottery is incredible. I'm trying to...” He felt eyes all over his body, then noticing each classmate staring at him curiously. He snapped his lips shut. “Nevermind.”

 

**Tuesday September 18**

Arthur craned his neck towards the front of Picasso's. The school cafe barista would probably make drinks faster if she wasn't wearing such a complicated piece of fashion. She could barely walk from the register to the cappuccino machine.

“Ugh, this line,” he groaned quietly, gripping his hair. 

“Yeah. Sucks.”

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Merlin reading over a stack of papers. His neat handwriting scrawled over the margins in a rainbow of colors. The brunet did not look up from his notes. Arthur read the text upside down.

“Cramming?”

Merlin grunted, eyes moving back and forth the page.

“Mmmm.” Merlin's eyes flicked up at him, his face lit with a sleepy smile. “Sorry, I got, like, two hours sleep, forgot we have a test, and haven't had coffee yet. Not very verbal.”

Arthur droned, “Whatever,” and back to the line. 

“Lovely speaking with you, as always.”

Arthur smiled despite his best efforts not to, quickly scowling.

 

**Thursday September 28**

“I need another hit,” Merlin said, voice shaking.

Gwen sighed and leaned on the counter.

“Merlin. You're running on nothing but coffee.”

“I don't have time for food. I have a show in less than twenty-four hours and I'm having a continuous heart attack.”

“The caffeine might not be the best choice for you,” she kindly pointed out. “How about...” Her eyes landed on a blender. “A smoothie!? Yes, that'll be great!”

Merlin grumbled and sat on a barstool, pouting. He rested his cheeks on his palms with his elbows on the bar as he sucked his smoothie down, though Gwen's combination of watermelon, spinach, and berries was really a refreshing jolt to his system.

Gwen handed him a wrapped sandwich. Merlin raised an eyebrow, mouth sucking the last of his smoothie.

“What's this?”

“It's called a sandwich,” she said with a kind smile. “Please eat it at some point today.”

 

**Friday September 29**

So far, his first show had been going surprisingly well. Merlin had managed to say hello to everyone who came, give extra attention to those who needed it (professors, professional artists, ex-fuckbuddies who dropped in for a chat), while also ensuring the bar was still stocked and each guest was engaged in the art. All in all, he didn't think he would have a heart attack that evening.

“Thank you for coming,” Merlin said, hugging Mr. Hsu tight. “You really didn't have to!”

“I am very honored you invited me.” Mr. Hsu surveyed the paintings, eyes squinted in study. “Is that...Me?”

Merlin looked towards one of his paintings from the summer, a sort of abstract version of sushi that formed a person. He blushed.

“I'd say Mikado and the wonderful people who work there were definitely an influence,” he said diplomatically.

Mr. Hsu wheezed a laugh, slapping Merlin on the back.

“Excellent.” He pulled his wallet out. “I will take it.”

“Oh, uh, okay, we weren't going to sell anything, but sure!”

Merlin walked with Mr. Hsu to the gallery owner to explain the situation. He passed by the front door of the small gallery as Arthur and Ava entered, both clad in all black with matching expressions of boredom. 

“Right this way, Mr. Hsu,” he said, holding his bosses arm and guiding him to the secretary.

Arthur waved at Lance, who was admiring a piece with Gwen at his side.

“I'm going for a smoke,” Ava droned, willowy form wilting away. 

He paid little attention made his way through the crowd, snagging a glass of red wine for himself. Ava could deal with her own drink. He made the rounds of greeting classmates, noting that a few professors had even showed up. 

“Arthur!”

He turned towards Professor Gaius' voice. He hid the glass of wine behind his back.

“Yes, sir?”

“I want you to meet Paolo Mara,” the professor said, patting a bearded, tiny man next to him. He man smiled up at Arthur, his small round glasses giving way to warm hazel eyes. “He owns the gallery and is interested in featuring some sculpture and pottery. Latin American inspired. Possibly in the next couple of months.” Gaius' eye twinkled. “Your name came up and...”

“Oh!” Arthur handed his glass of wine to Ava, who appeared at his side in a cloud of smoke. “I'd be honored.” He reached into his black blazer pocket. A business card appeared. “Please, feel free to contact me at any time. Or check out my portfolio site on the card.” He smiled wide, Ava sighing next to him. Arthur's eyebrows twitched together. He stifled his annoyance and smiled again at Paolo. “It would be an honor, truly.”

“Thank you,” Paolo said softly, almost too soft to be understood. He smiled and held up the card. “I will be in touch. Thank you.”

Arthur's stomach fluttered with happy nerves, a wide smile stretching his face. He caught eyes with Merlin across the room. Based on Merlin's amused expression he had watched the entire interaction. 

“You have a business card? Ugh,” Ava groaned, downing the wine. “Could you be more lame?”

“It's called networking,” Arthur said quietly. He scratched his beard. It was growing itchier by the day. “I'm going to get a drink.”

He left Ava for the crowded bar. He stood, forearms on the bar while he waited for the bartender. A slender body sidled up next to him. Merlin sipped his remaining champagne.

“Paolo is genuinely a nice, fair man who loves art.” He downed his glass and placed it on the bar top. “You'd have fun working here or doing an exhibit. It would work well.” He was handed another glass of champagne from the bartender, Arthur gaping at his blatant line cutting. “Good move with the business card.” He patted Arthur between his shoulder blades. “Thanks for coming.”

Arthur nodded, tapping his fingers on the bar. Merlin's name was called and he moved away without another word. Arthur watched him over his shoulder. Ava came into his sightline. He looked back to the bar.

“Vodka, please.”

 

**Thursday October 4**

Arthur looked around the spacious pottery studio. One of the more obnoxious aspects of sophomore year was the group pottery sessions. He was much more of an alone kind of potter. He observed how his classmates threw, how they maintained their station, how they used their tools. 

To him, everything just looked sloppy. He'd never said it aloud, but at times he wondered if he should have gone to Harvard Art. A lot of the ceramics students at MIA seemed to like playing with clay, and telling people they were professional potters, but they produced very little work. They didn't make their own glazes, preferring the easy way out and purchasing overpriced, mass produced glaze. They also were messy beyond belief, which was another thing he felt was off. 

It was like painters who didn't actually paint well, they just liked to walk around campus coated in paint while telling everyone how much they're working. If you're so busy working, then why aren't you producing any quality work? Just work, don't talk about it. Just work. 

He looked back to his wheel, tossing a ball of clay between his hands. It felt symmetrical and even. It was ready, like ball after ball was ready every day. The sounds of the room fell away.

Throw.

Spin.

Water.

Hands.

Hold.

Thumbs.

Relieve the pressure.

Build inside first.

Up up up.

“Arthur, maybe you could explain to everyone your technique? We haven't heard much from you this year.”

Arthur eased his foot on the pedal and lifted his hands. He looked up to his teacher. Oh, how he wanted to make a break for the bathroom at that moment. Instead he cleared his throat, nodding shyly. He gripped the handles of his wire and swiped it under the unformed clay lump. He plopped it to the side of his station.

Every eye in the room was on him, some students moving their stools closer to watch. The sounds of the room came back to him, the symmetry born from his hands going lopsided and uneven. His body wanted to curl inwards, his voice lost somewhere in his stomach. 

He'd been at school for over a year, but the crippling nervousness he felt in groups had only subsided minutely. He had seen therapists regularly since around the age of fifteen, which helped, but he still hated demonstrating his art in front of a group. It was a personal thing, a private thing, and something he wanted to keep between him, his studio teacher, and his wheel.

He gripped a ball of clay. The familiar weight calmed the edges of his nerves. He tossed it from hand to hand before throwing it onto his wheel. His foot eased the pedal.

“I just...I just use my hands to feel the pressure,” he explained softly. He knew that wasn't the most eloquent way to explain his technique, but as of yet his private studio teacher had let him be as quiet as he desired while working. It was a pleasure to not have to constantly explain himself aloud. “I just use my hands. And feel. That's it.”

He splashed some water on the lump, eyes trained on the very center. His classmates gasped quietly while his lump grew into a perfectly symmetrical bowl.

 

**Sunday October 14**

“I'm sorry, but it's not working out.”

Arthur shut his eyes and mouth at the same time. Orange juice, which he squeezed, ran down his cheeks. Ava slammed the empty glass down on the table. 

“Get out,” she demanded.

Arthur wiped a napkin over his face, dabbing his eyelids. He nodded and stood. He bent over and grabbed his backpack, hitching it over his shoulder.

“Why the fuck did you even stay over last night?” She glared at him from her seat, fists clenched at her side. “We didn't sleep together, but you wanted to stay over and, what? Break up with me after you cooked me breakfast?”

“I didn't mean for it to happen in that sequence,” he admitted, shrugging. “We just happened to break up at breakfast time.”

“What are these,” she held the plate of untouched eggs, “my consolation prize!?”

“Ava, for fuck's sake, we don't even like each other anymore,” he said, dodging a large lump of fluffy eggs. “Just let it go.”

“It's just--” He eyes started to quiver, tears on the brink of spilling over. “I just showed you my portfolio--”

His face winced, his nose wrinkling just enough to be noticeable. Ava's eyes flared, even with tears trickling down her cheeks.

“What is that face for?”

“Look, I'm gonna go.”

“You can just go FUCK yourself, Arthur FUCKING Pendragon!”

He dodged bacon on his way out of her apartment, which was a shame, as he had cooked it to crispy perfection.

 

**Sophomore year, Monday October 15**

Merlin tapped his lip with his pen, staring at the front of the lecture hall and yawning. Wisps of comments licked his ears, girls whispering from the back of the room. He sipped his coffee. 

“Look at him,” an excited voice whispered.

“Fuck, that jawline.”

“Where's Ava!?”

Merlin gave in and turned his head ever so slightly. Arthur settled into his normal seat three rows back and to the left. He was bent over his backpack, grabbing notebooks. He sat up straight. Merlin gasped softly.

Though his horrible beard was only a student at MIA for a couple of months, it was still a shock to see him clean shaven again. Clean shaven and soft skin and regal jawline and--

Arthur must have heard his gasp over the ruckus because he looked his way with a bored, confused eyebrow raise. Merlin dropped his face to his notes immediately, writing his ABCs as fast as he could.

 

**Friday November 8**

“Merlin, Merlin--”

Merlin turned with his earbuds in each hand. He tucked them, along with his iPhone, into his pocket and smiled at Professor Gaius, who looked quite winded. The professor smiled at him, his grey eyes twinkling. Merlin looped his red scarf around his throat, a chill in the air passing through him.

“Yes, sir?”

“I was wondering if you could show a possible transfer student around.” A shadow slid over Gaius' face. Gaius smiled up at the shadow-maker and patted him on the arm. “This is Percival McQueen,” Gaius' face softened in wonder as he continued to pat Percival's bicep, which was nearly the size of his face, “illustrator at large.”

Merlin then noticed the looming presence of a male with close cropped brown hair, his hands tightly clutching the straps of a forest green backpack that somehow hung on over his massive shoulders. He worse a wrinkle free white button down shirt and dark jeans, Vans sneakers completing his look. There was a thin sheen of sweat over his lightly freckled face, his throat bobbing to swallow. 

“Hello,” Percival said, his voice cracking.

“Hi there,” Merlin said with a wide smile. Percival's body visible sighed, relief settling over his face. “Sure, I'd love to show you around and answer any questions you might have.”

“I just knew you were the right choice,” Gaius beamed. “Merlin, here, is an excellent student, and one of our most promising painters in many, many years.” Gaius' eyes shone at Merlin's fidgeting. “He just threw his own gallery showing, all on his own and with no help from MIA.” 

Percy said, “Very impressive,” in a soft, awed voice.

Merlin flushed at that, his eyes skittering to the floor. He laughed out of nervousness, shaking his head.

“You're too kind,” he said to Professor Gaius. He smiled at Percy. “But I appreciate it.”

“I'll let you boys get to it,” Gaius said. He checked his watch and sighed. “I have a faculty meeting to attend, which I'm sure will be the highlight of my life.” 

Both Merlin and Percival laughed softly, Gaius winking before taking off towards one of the administration buildings. The boys fell into step together, Merlin leading Percival towards the closest building of studios.

“So, Percival, you're an illustrator?”

“Yes, and uh, please, call me Percy.” He shrugged his backpack higher. “Somehow the nickname makes my weird name seem just a touch less awkward.”

“Um, hello,” Merlin laughed, halting his steps. He tapped himself on the chest. “I'm Merlin. Did you miss that?”

Percival smiled wider than ever, his cheeks flushing with the motion.

“Yeah, I just...I really want to, one day,” his eyes darted from student to student, “maybe illustrate children's books,” Percy murmured, almost too soft to be heard. He looked around them. The world had not come crashing down around them. When he saw Merlin's smiling face he exhaled. “Is that weird?”

Merlin laughed and squeezed both of Percy's shoulders.

“No way! I think that awesome!”

Percy grinned again, which seemed to be a recurring theme around Merlin.

They started walking, hitting up some studios, quietly sneaking into two lectures, dipping into the student union, and even making it to one of the illustration labs before a closed class began. Merlin chattered happily the entire time, which was likely a combination of the venti Americano coursing through his veins and his new company. Percy was shy but bursting with kindness. His enthusiasm for art was evident with each question he asked, and Merlin could see every faculty member they met immediately fall for the bashful illustrator.

“You're like the human manifestation of the gentle giant trope.”

Percy's face flushed from his position on his knees. Merlin's voice was quiet enough to keep the comment between them, but full of affection. Percy hadn't been spoken to like that, like a friend, since enrolling in his former university.

He leaned forward, releasing a house spider he snagged in the men's room from an empty Coke cup into a flower patch. The small brown spider crawled curiously out of the cup, which looked like a shot glass in Percy's hands, and looked back at Percy before scampering into the grass.

“I just don't like to disturb nature,” Percy murmured.

“Is that kind of a motivating factor for the major change?”

“Yeah, a little,” Percy laughed quietly. “I just...” He sat back on his heels. He blinked up at the sky, listening to the surrounding sounds for a moment. A bird sang, music buzzed in nearby earbuds, people chatted as they walked to classes. “I missed art so much,” he reflected. “I thought I'd be able to deal with school without it, but with all the lacrosse stuff, all the partying and anger and stress.” He shook his head, running his fingers over the grass beneath him. “Some of the guys do really well in that environment, but...It's just not for me. Business either.” He smiled at Merlin and stood to his full height. “Which is why I'm now trying to transfer.”

“I admire that,” Merlin smiled. “And I really hope you apply here. I think you'd fit in so well and love it.”

Percy ducked his head down, chuckling breathily through his nose.

They eventually ended up in the cafeteria, which seemed a logical stop on Merlin's official MIA tour. Percy watched as people made a beeline to say hello to Merlin, who was always polite enough to include him in conversation. 

“Lance, this is Percy,” he said with a smile, arm around (or as much around as physically possible) Percy's shoulders. “He's looking to transfer. Illustration major.”

“Nice, man!” Lance held his hand out, Percy shaking it with a shy smile. “I'm looking to be an architect, but we'll see.” He lifted a stack of papers clutched in his left hand. “I've got to go over these drafts with my advisor so I'll have to take off.” He patted Percy on the arm, offering him another blinding smile. “Hope to see you around, Perce!”

They watched him run out of the cafeteria, hair blowing in the breeze.

“He's really, really nice,” Percy said. “And he has really, really nice hair.”

Merlin giggled to agree. 

“The food is actually okay here,” Merlin commented, gesturing to the rows of cuisine. “I tend to veer into meatless territory more often than not and I've never had a problem finding something good.” 

"Vegetarian?''

"No, I still eat meat once in a blue moon and I eat fish a lot. I just don't care for the taste of most meat."

"Understood."

Merlin's eyes lit up and he turned to Percy. 

“The salad bar is super fresh and has a great selection.” His blue eyes got impossibly wider. “They always have chickpeas and I love chickpeas on salad. I love hummus too.” When Percy smirked at Merlin's enthusiasm over chickpea related products Merlin giggled, putting his hand on the back of his neck. “They do take out stuff too.” He cleared his throat, deepening his voice. “Sushi and sandwiches and stuff.” 

“Cool,” Percy said, nodding. “Sushi is good.”

“The dorms, if you end up living in them, have kitchens on each floor. Or in suites. So if you're into cooking, you could do that too.”

“Do you cook?”

Merlin smiled shyly.

“Um,” he waved at someone across the cafeteria, “the extent of my cooking is making birthday cakes for people.” 

“Aw.”

Merlin laughed up at Percy. 

“Are you hungry?”

“No, not really.” He gripped his backpack strap with his right hand, feet shifting in his skater sneakers. “But I'm kind of dying for coffee.”

“Oh thank God,” Merlin sighed, gripping his arm. “I don't really like Picasso's that much, that's the campus cafe, but it'll do.”

Percy followed Merlin to Picasso's, where both opted for large coffees to stay.

“Are you sure you don't have any where else to be?” Percy asked over his cup, taken light with no sugar. Merlin dumped another packet of sugar into his cup. Percy shifted in his seat, observing students walk in and out of the door. “Class or something? I don't want to take up any of your time.”

“Nope, Fridays are my light day. Only a quick meeting in the morning.” Merlin bit on the end of his stirrer and smiled. “We're totally fine.”

The bell above the door tinkled, crisp air rushing in with each student.

“I dunno if you'd want to go into the dorms, to be honest,” Merlin said between sips. “Most students are out after sophomore year, and you'd be the age of a junior by the time you enrolled.”

“Yeah.” Percy leaned back in his chair, his hands propped behind his head. “I've got a place in Charles Village right now, and I might just keep that. Rent is cheap and I don't mind the walk.”

Merlin's eyebrows shot up.

“Nice, man! I work in Mount Vernon.”

“Where?”

“Mikado.”

Percy's face lit up.

“I love them. They make this--” His jaw dropped. “Oh my God, are you—Is the Merlin Roll your roll?”

Merlin blushed and put his hands over his face, laughing and nodding.

“They only did that roll last year for my birthday week!” His voice was muffled from behind his hands, Percy laughing loudly. “I can't believe you ate it!”

“Ate it? I loved it!” He rubbed his stomach at the memory. “The little slices of mango were outrageous!”

“Did I hear mango?”

Percy looked up where the new voice came from. He quickly dropped his hand from his stomach, his laughter going squeaky before it died in his throat. Merlin removed his hands but kept laughing.

“Percy, meet Gwaine,” he said, waving his hand between them. “Who apparently has a mango sensor somewhere on his body. Gwaine, this is Percy. Possible transfer student.”

Gwaine put his hands on his hips, eyes scanning over Percy's body. Percy stood from the table and Gwaine's smile grew. 

“Hello there,” Gwaine said. He leaned forward with a conspiratorial smile. He caught a whiff of Percy's boyishly clean scent, soap and just a hint of sweat. He seemed so innocent, yet also was built like a brick house. He gripped Percy's hand, Percy just about knocking the table over to stand up straight. “I'm Gwaine, an acquaintance of Magic Merlin.”

“H-Hi, I'm Pervy. Percy,” he corrected, blinking rapidly. “God, sorry, just, uh, Percy.”

Gwaine giggled and squeezed his hand. 

“You can be either in my book.”

Percy's face flamed red, Merlin biting his bottom lip not to burst out with giggles. Gwaine's eyes quickly glanced over Percy again, the fire in the pit of his belly only growing. Then they made eye contact again and Percy's innocent face flushed deeper, his nervous smile throwing renegade butterflies into the fire pit that was Gwaine's stomach.

“Merlin's been showing me around,” Percy explained, still holding Gwaine's hand. Gwaine smirked, exchanging a look with Merlin. “Campus and stuff. Classes.” Gwaine's hand squeezed his own gently, their eyes still locked. Gwaine nodded along as he talked, and continued nodding even when he wasn't talking. “I'm...I might transfer if...” Percy's face broke out into a bright smile at that moment, Gwaine grinning at him. “I dunno...”

“I think that would be a good idea,” Gwaine said, squeezing his hand one more time. He slowly rubbed his thumb over the top of Percy's hand. “Let's exchange numbers, so if you have any questions I can help out.”

“Wow, Gwaine, subtle much?” Merlin laughed into his cup of coffee.

Percy laughed and broke their handshake, fumbling with his phone in his pocket. He exchanged numbers with both Merlin and Gwaine, who joined the two of them for another cup of coffee.

Eventually, Percy said, “I actually should go,” standing from the small table. He hooked his backpack over his shoulder. Merlin and Gwaine stood at the same time. “But thank you for all of your help.” He looked from boy to boy. “Seriously, I can't wait to apply here.”

Gwaine's hand reached out, squeezing Percy's shoulder.

“We can't wait to have you.” He blinked rapidly at Percy's wide eyes. “I mean, as a student.” Merlin pressed his lips together, content to just watch. “Here. At MIA.” Gwaine cleared his throat and tilted his head to the side. “But yeah, good luck.”

Merlin pulled Percy into a quick hug, Gwaine piling on top. Percy laughed loudly, his body shaking both of them. 

“You guys are the nicest.” He stepped backwards towards the door. “I'll be in touch.” 

He and Gwaine quickly looked at each other before looking away, Percy to Merlin and Gwaine to a flyer on the wall about a feminist bowling league. And then he was gone, waving to them through the door from outside Picasso's. 

Gwaine and Merlin were silent for a moment, both still standing. It was Gwaine who spoke first.

“Good god,” he said, a little bit wistful. “I'd climb him like a fucking tree.”

Merlin giggled, “Very classy, Gwaine. Seriously.” He sat down and picked up his coffee cup. “Nothing but class.”

“He just seems so kind, you know?”

“He does,” Merlin answered. 

His brain clicked into place. Gwaine was the kindest person he'd met at MIA, or possibly ever met. Percy rivaled that kindness, and was even hunkier than Gwaine. It made perfect sense.

He watched Gwaine stare into the distance, a goofy smile on his face, his normally animated eyes unfocused. Maybe there was more to Gwaine's interest than tree climbing their new, muscled friend. Junior year could be very interesting.

 

**Wednesday November 13**

Arthur sat back on his heels. His paintbrush dabbed silver paint once more, a smile growing across his face. He giggled at the sight in front of him. He never realized making small figurines out of clay would be so fun, or that painting them would be so addicting.

“Hello,” he said softly in a gruff voice, wiggling one figurine shaped like the wolfman. “I'm Wolfie.”

He walked Wolfie over to a large green blob character wearing thick black glasses.

“Oh, hey,” he said in a bloated tone. He made a burping noise each time Blobby hustled towards Wolfie. He walked them both towards a lounging zombie, who was creatively named Zombie. “You look a bit down, Zombie.” 

“I'm dead,” his voice crackled, wiggling Zombie towards the others. “What would you expect of me?”

“Zombie,” Wolfie asked, “why are you British?”

Arthur paused for effect, lips pursed thoughtfully. 

“Not quite sure, old chap. Perhaps I was bitten by--”

“Arthur?”

Arthur looked over his shoulder. He gasped.

“Oh, hey, uh,” he swiped his hand over the dry figurines and gathered them into a shoebox. Lance stood behind him with his arms crossed, fresh from the gym and smirking. “What's up?”

“Not much, not much.” He popped his earbuds out and tossed his phone on his dresser. “Just went running with Gwen.”

He came over and kneeled down next to Arthur's makeshift work station, Arthur busying himself with wiping his hands clean. Lance smiled and giggled, tilting his head at a small Baltimore Oriole clay figure.

“These are awesome, man.”

He reached for a near exact figurine replica of Homer Simpson, Arthur's hand gently holding it back.

“It's still wet,” Arthur murmured. He still wouldn't meet Lance's gaze. “His paint, I mean.”

Lance's eyes crinkled with a laugh. He ruffled his own sweaty hair. “Sorry, I must stink.” He pulled a hair tie off his wrist and secured his hair into a bun on top of his head. Arthur just continued to pack up his small paint set and brushes.

“Are you going to show these in the December seminar?”

“These!?” Arthur laughed. “Are you nuts? These are just...Just a joke.”

“People would pay big money for these,” Lance said, holding his hand out towards Blobby. Arthur sheepishly placed it in his hand. “Especially the Baltimore ones. They're so creative, yet marketable.”

“I dunno.” Arthur scratched behind his ear. “I just needed to make some for class. A few original characters and a few replicas.”

“I think you should keep making them,” Lance insisted, voice gentle. Arthur smiled down at his box of figurines. “You're really good at it.”

Arthur tilted his head, eyelashes batting slowly.

“Is that that the voice you use on Gwen?”

Lance laughed loudly and shoved his shoulder, standing from the floor.

 

**Monday December 2**

“Thoughts?”

The sophomore exhibit was silent. Arthur tapped his fingers against his lips, squinting at the piece. Somehow, Chatty Chelsea had managed to get into the exhibit. Maybe their class size really had shrunk so much that everyone could get in whenever they wanted.

“I think it's brilliant,” Michael, a textile major, offered.

Arthur's eyes widened ever so slightly. Did he hear him wrong?

“Thank you,” Chelsea drawled, gum clicking in her mouth. 

“Yeah, wow, it's so...” Another student named Annabella waved her hand at the collection of garbage (it was actual garbage from the cafeteria dumpsters) Chelsea had spray painted red and black. “Just so real, you know? Really real.”

The class murmured around them.

Had he taken crazy pills before the exhibit? He looked around to their classmates, half of the group nodding in support while the other half just looked stressed. Why MIA had an exhibit the month of finals was beyond him. He continued to look around the room with his face still forward towards the “art.”

He studied Merlin's face. There was a thick line on his forehead with his brows furrowed, his hand over his mouth, his eyes squinting yet somehow wide with confusion. Merlin felt eyes on himself and looked in Arthur's direction. They held eye contact for a few seconds. Merlin minutely shook his head and widened his eyes ever so slightly. Arthur's lips twitched beneath his fingers. It was a crazy day in December when he felt relief from Merlin agreeing with him.

 

**Saturday December 7**

“Excellent, Arthur.”

Arthur couldn't speak in the position his body was stretched in, but he exhaled his thanks as best he could. He needed this yoga class badly, the pressure of finals wreaking havoc on his body. He also couldn't accept the idea of putting on real clothes with buttons and waistlines during this high stress time. Yoga attire (or nudity) would have to do until the break. 

The instructor lightly touched his right shoulder as she passed, her feet swishing on the wood floor. He inhaled, focusing on his breathing. He loved the moments when he felt as if his body was a malleable column of air, when he didn't have to think about anything and could just feel.

“Everyone, let's transition into child's pose to close the class.”

He rested his forehead on his black mat, his upper back rounding into the stretch. The instructor intoned, “Namaste,” and the class responded in kind. The lights of the room slowly went brighter, people murmuring as they gathered their things. 

He slid his feet into flip flops and pulled a thin grey hoodie over his head. He shrugged his black winter coat on next. His sweaty skin in just a tank wouldn't be the most comfortable for the walk home. He rubbed his hand over his stomach. He'd have to grab dinner before he settled in for the night.

He bid his classmates farewell and looped his yoga mat strap over his shoulder. He walked down the studio stairs. Chilly air licked his cheeks when he stepped onto the street. He pursed his lips at the variety of restaurants on Charles Street. 

Donna's was right there. A coffee would be heaven at the moment. His choices for dinner ranged from Indian to Thai to Japanese to good old greasy burger. He clutched his stomach. Maybe burger wasn't the best choice for an after yoga meal. Mikado was in the same building as Donna's. He nodded at his logic and walked to the end of the block.

He stopped into Donna's to get a coffee and said hello to Gwen, who was sweet as always. He sipped his coffee as he walked down the stairs that led to Mikado. He saw Merlin whiz by through the glass door with a tray on his shoulder. 

“Ugh,” he groaned to himself. 

There goes his relaxation from yoga. He could practically hear Merlin's grating voice and obnoxious giggle before he was even in the same room as him.

He got into the restaurant and sat at the bar, scanning the menu. He marked a couple of rolls with the tiny pencil at his place setting.

“C-Can I help you?”

Arthur turned towards the nervous voice. A blushing girl with a short black bob haircut stood next to him, no more than eighteen years old. She pushed her thick glasses up the bridge of her wide nose.

“I'm new,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip. 

He smiled a bit and hummed.

“Sure. I'll make it easy for you.” He handed her the sheet of paper. “To go, please.”

“Coming right up!”

She scurried away. Arthur watched her run to Merlin and hand him the paper, speaking quickly as Merlin just smiled. The painted glanced at Arthur. His smile twitched a bit but he kept his attention on the new waitress. Merlin patted her on the shoulder and pointed towards the sushi bar as he spoke. She nodded and ran back to the bar. 

She saw Arthur's confused face and babbled something that sounded like, “In a minute just a little like fifteen minutes, sir,” as she dropped the sheet with the sushi chefs.

Arthur balanced his yoga mat against the legs of his chair and stood up, stretching his arms over his head.

“Water?”

He turned to find Merlin filling the glass at his seat. 

“Thanks.” He tilted his head backward. “Gonna hit the restroom.”

Merlin said nothing and walked in the opposite direction. When Arthur returned to the bar he saw Merlin standing with the sushi chefs and the new waitress. Arthur ducked behind a bamboo tree. Merlin reached around the bar with ease, the chefs smiling at his fast movements.

“He likes to get avocado on the side and extra crunchies on his spicy tuna roll.” Merlin picked up a bottle and squirted it in a takeout container. “Likes the spicy mayo on the side, too.”

“How did you know that?” the new waitress questioned.

“He's pointed it out to me enough times while getting take out for me to remember,” Merlin giggled. “You'll start to remember the orders for regular customers.”

Arthur felt his cheeks heat from behind the bamboo tree. Was he really that bossy? That explained how come he always seemed to get the extras at Mikado, even when he forgot to order it. He cleared his throat gently as he approached the bar. Merlin saw him and ducked away, grabbing a tray of plates for his tables. 

“All ready, sir!” she chirped.

“Thank you,” he said quietly to the girl. After paying, he left her a generous cash tip and took his bag, avoiding Merlin's eyes as he exited the restaurant.

 

**Wednesday December 11**

Arthur stretched his arms over his head and blinked at the wall. He had been staring at the same page of notes for about three hours now. At least, that's what it felt like. He could see other's in the crowded library doing the same sort of bewildered stretch as they studied for finals. 

“Coffee,” he whispered to himself, standing. He grabbed his cell and checked his pocket for his wallet. “Lance, you want anything?”

Lance, or possibly a ghost of Lance, just shook his head, his entire side of the table covered by blueprints and scraps of paper with numbers scribbled on them. Arthur patted him on the head. Lance remained frozen in place. His hair moved, though, and looked shimmery as ever. It was nice to know some things never change, even in the face of finals.

One thing MIA did correctly was stock student lounges. Yes, the lounges often smelled like stale body odor, due to the students camping out in there, but they had a decent vending machine selection. A few of the lounges, including the library lounge, were given coffee machines, which was like a beam of light from the art gods.

He entered the lounge and noticed a slim body sleeping on the royal blue sofas. He tilted his head, able to see one of Merlin's ridiculous ears sticking up amongst his wild mess of hair. Familiar black Converse All Stars were lined up next to the sofa. 

Merlin was curled with his body facing in on the sofa, his knees pulled up a bit towards his chest. One hand was tucked under his head, the other fanned out on the back of the sofa. His clothing was bunched up, his tee bunched high enough to reveal a sliver of his lower back with red plaid boxers peeking out the top of his dark jeans. His ankles were crossed. Arthur noticed that he was wearing mismatched socks on his long feet. Grey stripes on his right foot, a black dress sock on his left foot. His soft breaths were rhythmic, his face relaxed and his lips pursed forward. He looked so still.

The sound of students shuffling closer moved him to the vending machine. He came for coffee, not to watch lazy students snooze on school property.

 

**Monday February 3**

“Someone cut me in line at my favorite cafe, which then caused me to be late to a really important class, and I felt really angry, so this painting depicts my frustration with the entitled, spoiled, rude youth of my generation.”

. . .

“This sculpture was inspired by people who refuse to take the stairs when they're going from the first floor to the second. Seriously? Take the stairs. You're wasting everyone in the elevator's time because of your laziness.”

 

**Tuesday February 20**

Merlin sighed and laid on the studio floor. He stared at his canvas, which had not changed one bit since he entered the studio. He rubbed his hands over his face.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

He'd been visualizing a painting in his head for days. For weeks. It was tormenting him. But for whatever reason, his hands wouldn't obey. 

He peered through his fingers at the blank canvas and sighed heavily.

 

**Thursday March 6**

"And he cooked this incredible breakfast for us and then--then--then--" Heather sniffled uncontrollably, her hand flying to her nose. "Then he dumped me!!"

Her hysterical shrieks were kind of inappropriate for the library. Come to think of it, Merlin couldn't remember her ever actually being in the library. He couldn't help but listen to every single word she said. Since when was Arthur with Heather? Last time he saw the potter sulking around campus, he was with a different girl.

He remained facing forward but his eyes kept rolling towards the ceiling, his head tilting just a bit back to angle his ear in their direction. He felt heat on his face and looked across the table, Gwaine smirking at him.

"Nosy," Gwaine mouthed before looking back down to his text.

"But why?" Chelsea droned, long nails clipclipclipping on the tabletop. "I thought you said it was going amaaazing?"

"I thought so! I mean, he's been a little distant, but that's just Arthur." She blew her nose into a tissue, the white material fluttering even while heavy drops of black eyeliner splattered on top. "The sex was so good and I even showed him my portfolio last night--"

Merlin's lips sputtered a quiet giggle. Bingo. He didn't need to know Arthur to have noticed a pattern with when his relationships came to an end. He muffled his laughter with his hands, masking it with a cough.

"--And then this morning, the breakfast from hell! I mean, what the fuck!?"

A cranky librarian intervened at that point and Merlin relaxed in his seat, Heather escorted from the library by Chelsea and her posse of girlfriends.

 

**Friday March 14**

“I'm sure you've all received the e-mail notification about Leon Lane's upcoming painting exhibit at MoMa.”

The class murmured in unison, bodies perking up in their seats. Gaius' face crinkled with a small smile.

“I will take that as a yes, then.” He tapped his fingers against a stack of papers. “Leon was a student here, hmm,” he stroked his chin, “I believe around ten years ago.”

“Eight,” a female voice pointed out from the front of the class. Snickers broke out around her. “What?” He purple and black dreadlocks whipped around as she huffed. “It's true. Eight years ago.”

“Thank you, Leanna,” Gaius said kindly, his smile twitching. “As I was saying, Leon was a student here, and a fine one at that. Seeing as he is such a sparkling example of an alumni, we have decided that each class will take a trip to New York to observe his exhibit,” the class murmurs grew in volume and excitement, “along with other MoMa exhibits. All for an assignment that will be due at the end of term as part of your sophomore seminar.”

“Yes,” Gwaine sighed, making a fist and pulling it into his body. He did the motion a handful of times while adding a leg kick. Merlin giggled into his hand, Lance's body shivering with unsung laughter. Even Arthur looked mildly amused, which was a rarity. Gwaine grinned and whispered, “I love field trips.”

“This is a destination field trip,” Gaius said as he passed between two studio tables. He looked at Gwaine's agape mouth, his eyes dragging to the boy's eyes. He dropped the paper on the table in front of him. “Which means that you all must be at the Museum of Modern Art in New York by nine am sharp on Saturday April 5th, which is the last Saturday of spring break.” Groans were heard around the classroom. Gwaine did not fist pump. “How you get there and where you stay is not the responsibility of the school.”

That caused even more groans and Gwaine whimpered aloud, clutching the paper in his hand.

“What are we paying tuition for if I now have to pay my way round trip to New York?”

“An excellent question,” Gaius commented, handing Merlin a packet. “Perhaps you should draft a letter to the dean expressing your disgust?”

“Perhaps I will,” Gwaine said, pouting and reading his packet.

 

**Tuesday March 18**

“The reading...The reading was,” Arthur's stomach lulled, his lips closing with his hand over his mouth. He shook his head, his eyes clenched shut. He absolutely was not about to vomit green beer in front of his entire Ancient Civilizations and their Impact on Art class. “Excuse me,” he forced out of his mouth, reaching for his water bottle. He took a swig, willing his head clear. That only deepened his headache. 

Professor Val raised his eyebrows at the struggling student, smirking. It was a bit cruel to make him answer on the morning after St. Patrick's Day. Arthur had always been an excellent student. But when there was only four people in class, Arthur, Merlin, a lost looking janitor, and (surprisingly) Chelsea, he had slim pickings. 

The classroom door slammed open suddenly.

“What'd I miss!?” Gwaine slurred, still wearing a neon green leprechaun costume, complete with curly green shoes.

Merlin groaned and rested his head on the desk, Arthur burping and whimpering. 

 

**Friday April 4**

“Oh my fucking God, Merlin, I'm—I'm so sorry,” Gwaine said. His hands pulled the sides of his cheeks; he resembled The Scream at that moment. “I just...I can't believe this happened. I feel horrible. I thought—I booked it so far ahead of time to get a deal and I just--”

Merlin squeezed Gwaine's shoulder.

“Gwaine, man, relax,” he soothed, eyes crinkled with concern. “It'll be fine. Seriously. I'm sure we can find someone to crash with for a couple of nights. I'm more worried about you getting your money back from that fake hotel site.” He rubbed the middle of his friend's back, Gwaine staring at the ground. “This is absolutely fine. We'll work it out. Please, don't worry.” He pulled his iPhone out, scrolling to G. “I'm going to call a few people. C'mon,” he tugged the sleeve of Gwaine's black tee, “let's walk a bit. Relax.”

“This just fucking sucks, man. I booked through that site, they gave me a great deal, and it's a scam?” He pouted. “I hate the internet.”

“You do not,” Merlin giggled.

“Do too.”

“What about porn?”

Gwaine was silent next to him. 

Mere minutes later Merlin was on the phone with Gwen, explaining their situation. She hung up with Merlin to call Lance and quickly called Merlin back.

“Lance is staying with a classmate, but he said you guys can absolutely crash with him.”

Merlin whooped in victory, Gwen's laughter crackling on the street. He gave Gwaine a thumbs up, smiling as the light returned to Gwaine's eyes.

“Which classmate?”

“Oh, um,” Gwen paused and Merlin could practically hear her chewing her bottom lip, “he didn't say.”

“Okay, whatever,” Merlin giggled.

He took down the address of Lance's hotel and the room number while Gwaine mapped their subway plan with his phone. They said their goodbyes to Gwen and hurried there to the subway. Merlin was eager to take a shower and Gwaine just wanted to rest his feet.

They stood in front of the hotel, Gwaine's jaw touching his chest.

“Looks nice,” Merlin commented.

“Way to state the obvious.” Gwaine watched a woman in a fur coat saunter out the door, a tiny dog in her arms. “So...Is Lance loaded?”

“I believe so,” Merlin replied with a shrug. Gwaine himself came from old, old money, though you would never know from talking to him. He loved coupons and shamelessly was obsessed with all TLC shows related to couponing/cheapskates/etc. “His parents are big in polo I think. Like the sport. They own horses and teams and stuff.”

“I see.” Gwaine smiled wide at him. “Well, then. Let's go inside.” He rubbed his hands together. “I can't wait to shit in a fancy toilet. I love a good bidet.”

Merlin couldn't control his laughter as they walked inside and to the desk. They were given two key cards to Lance's room.

“That's so nice that he already set it up for us,” Gwaine commented in the elevator. “He's just so nice. Hell of an architect. Really knows his numbers.” Merlin smirked at the sound of Gwaine's voice. His chatty moods were among the most amusing. “If he wasn't straight I'd be all over that.”

“Understood. He and Gwen are quite possibly the most considerate, kind humans on earth.”

“Correct.”

They arrived at the door for room 869. Merlin knocked gently on the door. There was no answer.

“Should we just use the card?” he whispered to Gwaine.

Gwaine shrugged, hitching his backpack higher. 

“Knock again.”

Merlin nodded and lifted his fist. The door flew open before he could knock. Clear blue eyes pinned Merlin in place with his fist still in the air.

“Oh, it's you,” Arthur groaned, leaning on the door frame. He eyed Gwaine, his displeasure leaving his face. He sort of smiled a little. “Hey, man. Nice to see you.”

Gwaine lowered Merlin's fist for him and stepped inside, dragging Merlin by the backpack strap. 

“Thanks so much for helping us out,” he said. “It was all my fault our hotel situation was fucked. My friends offered to let us stay at their place, but they're out of town and can't get us a key.”

“It's fine” Arthur said, still eyeing Merlin. Merlin quirked an eyebrow at him. “It's a big enough room.” 

He fluttered his eyelashes at Merlin, who just rolled his eyes and dropped his bag by the door. Lance came out of the bathroom, fresh shower steam following him. Gwaine grinned and pulled him into a hug. 

“Hey, man, thanks a lot! Wow, you smell good.”

Lance ruffled his hair with a towel and laughed, half hugging Gwaine.

“No worries. It'll be cool to hang out.”

Arthur and Merlin shared a look. If there was one thing they agreed about, it was that this was not going to be cool. Other than their group critiques and occasional forced interactions in a group setting, they had made a concerted effort not to be in each other's presence the past few months. It was time to grow up and move on; they did not like each other and should not spend time together unless completely necessary in a group critique. 

Or if it was a free food event. Those were fair game.

“Do you guys want to clean up and then grab dinner?” Lance tossed his wet towel into the linen bag. “Arthur was just telling me about this amazing Italian place he likes to go to that isn't too far from here.”

Merlin's stomach rumbled audibly. 

“I'll take that as a yes,” Lance laughed. Arthur even smirked a little, Gwaine rubbing Merlin's belly against Merlin's will.

The boys showered and got ready for dinner. The restaurant was just a few subway stops away and turned out to be owned by a friend of Arthur's father. Without any prompting, family style trays of pasta and lasagna and gnocci and skirt steak appeared on their table. 

Merlin carefully maneuvered his knife and fork, attempting to keep his motions under wraps. Arthur's lips pursed while he watched the painter dissect layers of lasagna.

“This is incredible,” Lance said, leaning back in his chair. His iPhone clicked. “I'm texting Gwen this spread.” He laughed softly and righted the phone in his hands, thumbs typing away. “She'll be so jealous. She loves Italian. She makes these little cannoli cookies. They're so good.”

“Sorry to soil the fantasy, but I'm pretty sure those are from Donna's,” Gwaine pointed out, spearing himself another rare slice of steak. “Fuck, Arthur.” He groaned wildly, complete with a neck roll. “Did you call and request this?”

“No,” Arthur said. He leaned back in his seat, sipping his water. “But my dad likely told them we might come by.”

“That's really nice of him,” Merlin said, smiling across the table. He forked a tiny pile of sauce free lasagna noodles. “Thank you again.”

Arthur sighed at Merlin's dopey gaze but said nothing. Sucking up as usual. He pushed his chair away from the table.

“I'm going to get some extra sauce from the kitchen,” he explained when his classmates peered curiously at him. “Sauce,” he repeated. “From the kitchen.”

“Ooh,” Lance laughed, waving his hands in the air. “Big man in the restaurant.”

The right side of Arthur's lips twitched upward. He disappeared into the crowded rows of tables. 

“I wonder if they'd give us wine,” Gwaine said. He rubbed his hand over his neck. “I haven't shaved in a couple of days.

“Or ever,” Merlin teased, laughing when a Gwaine shaped foot kicked him in the shin under the table. Lance snickered.

“What are you all laughing at?” Arthur asked as he sat down. He replaced his napkin over his lap. “Hmm?”

Lance explained, “Something Merlin said about Gwaine's constant facial hair,” gesturing towards Merlin with his fork and still smiling wide. 

“You have such nice teeth,” Merlin commented randomly.

Their waiter appeared at the table, two large plates steaming on either hand.

“A couple of more deliveries from Chef Dean,” he said, winking at Arthur. Arthur smiled politely but, to Merlin, he looked suddenly uncomfortable, his eyes darting from plate to plate. He focused on wiping his mouth with a napkin, the waiter dropping the trays on Merlin and Lance's side of the table. “Enjoy our sweet pea risotto and handmade cheese ravioli in a light cream sauce.” 

Merlin's eyes lit up, a pleased gasp escaping his lips.

“Wow, this looks amazing,” he said quickly, sitting up straighter in his chair. 

“Merlin loves peas.”

“Thank you for that riveting fact, Gwaine,” Arthur deadpanned, cutting into a slice of steak.

Merlin stared at Arthur as he cut, and then chewed, the small bite of meat. Lance chattered about something Gwen related and Gwaine coughed when he ate his gnocci in meat sauce too fast, but the painter just started at the potter. Arthur reached for his water and frowned at him.

“What?”

“Did you...” Merlin glanced down at his plate, Gwaine taking it upon himself to spoon a healthy portion of risotto in the center. Arthur got that uncomfortable look again, his eyes towards the ceiling while he gulped from his water glass. Merlin shook his head minutely and picked up his silverware. “Nevermind.”

. . .

After dinner was finished and the check was mysteriously taken care of, they lingered near the subway stop. Gwaine ran his hands through his hair, turning in circle to take in the surroundings.

“You guys want to maybe head out to a bar?”

“Yeah, why not, right?” Lance said excitedly. “I don't drink but it would be cool to maybe catch a band or something. It's not that late.”

Merlin tilted his head side to side, his weight shifting from foot to foot.

“I think I'll skip it tonight.”

Lance, Gwaine and Arthur looked at him. Gwaine and Lance looked disappointed, Arthur's face was unreadable as usual. Merlin laughed and itched behind his ear.

“I'm just really tired. Bus rides make me so sleepy. And now this food is just pushing me into sleepytown.”

“Sleepytown?” Arthur repeated, tone flat.

That made Merlin laugh even louder. He rubbed his hands over his face.

“Yes, sleepytown. I'm exhausted.” He shooed them with his hands. “But you all go, go, go. Have fun and do whatever.”

“Alright,” Gwaine said, pouting. “Are you sure? I'll try to find a pretty boy in a band for you!”

Merlin and Lance laughed, Arthur rolling his eyes.

“Seriously, it's fine. Then I can just pass out on the couch. I get anxious falling asleep in a room with other people too, so it's fine.”

Arthur's face softened into something that almost looked intrigued. Merlin flushed.

He didn't realize what a weird, personal thing that was to admit on a New York City street until he said it. Gwaine had passed out in his room, and he in Gwaine's, more often than not. Lance was straight and likely didn't care. But Arthur was Arthur. All he needed was to fart in his sleep in front of him and then he'd never hear the end of it. At least if he went back to the hotel alone he could fall asleep alone.

“I think I'll head back too,” Arthur said. “Need to get up early.”

The sound of his voice made Merlin blink. He shook himself ever so slightly.

“Oh,” he said, fingering the keycard in his pocket. “Um, okay?”

Arthur gave him a bored once over. He nodded at Gwaine and Lance, who were both silent but seemingly amused.

“Alright, then. Have fun you two,” Arthur said, smirking at his friends. 

He turned away from them without addressing Merlin. Merlin opened his mouth and looked to Lance and Gwaine. They still looked amused, laughter hiding beneath their infuriatingly handsome faces.

“Have a nice night,” Gwaine said, a small snort escaping Lance.

Merlin sighed and ran after Arthur, who was already halfway down the stairs to the 1 train.

They made it back to their hotel in one piece, though neither said a single thing on the train ride or walk or elevator ride. Arthur went into the bathroom upon getting into their room, Merlin toeing his shoes off near the door.

The painter grabbed a pillow from the closet, pulling one of the extra blankets as well. Lance must have given the staff a heads up that they would need more of everything. He smiled to himself as he hugged the soft items to his chest; Lance was the nicest.

He walked to the sofa and plopped the items down. He got to his knees and dug into his backpack. He could vaguely register Arthur walking around the room behind him. It was a large room, but not large enough to house his entire person and ego in the same space.

He rifled through his clothing, biting his bottom lip. 

“You look constipated.”

Merlin released his lip with a pop. They had barely spoken all year and that was Arthur's starting line for a conversation? He narrowed his eyes over his shoulder. Arthur's back from to him as he strode to the bed, wearing nothing but short black boxers. Merlin's eyes slowly slid down the center of his broad back, ending on the tapered waist that was usually covered by a baggy tank top. 

“You weren't even looking at me,” Merlin stated, leaving out that he was most definitely looking at Arthur at that moment.

“I could just,” Arthur's hand floated lethargic in the air, “feel it in your energy.”

“Oh, how wise.” The brief second of interest in Arthur's smooth skin behind his knees fell away from Merlin when he heard Arthur's dull voice. “Very Yoda of you.” Arthur exhaled quickly through his nose, his hand dropping to his side. Merlin pondered, “Was that a laugh or did you just fart out of your mouth?” 

“Shut up,” Arthur said, his voice wavering. He audibly swallowed. “And no, I did not mouth fart.”

Arthur crawled on all fours on top of the bed closest to the wall. His large bare feet looked soft and without a single callous, his strong thighs rippling as he turned onto his back. Merlin sighed and looked back to his clothes.

“What's taking you so long?” Arthur flattened on his back, head sinking into the luxurious pillow. He propped himself up, eyes never leaving Merlin's back. “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“I sleep in just boxers or naked most of the time, so I didn't bring any extra clothes to sleep in.”

One of Arthur's brows arched.

“So?”

Merlin looked over his shoulder. His lips tightened, Arthur sprawled with one arm behind the pillow.

“I'm sharing a room with you and Lance. I'm not doing either.”

Arthur snorted.

“You were going to share with Gwaine. You didn't care about him seeing you naked.”

Merlin smiled and shrugged.

“I could stand with my ass to the door, bend over, spread my cheeks, and give Gwaine the goat as he entered, and he'd walk in like, 'Oh, hey, I saw this butterfly land on a flower and it was amaaazing, man!'”

Arthur laughed loudly. All his teeth were bared, his head thrown back and his eyes shut. The sound was resonant in the sterile hotel room, Merlin smiling wider at the sight of Arthur's stomach shaking. That filled him with a strange warmth, which only grew hotter when Arthur giggled as his laugh tapered off, the blankets shifting near the bottom of the bed. Hearing your enemy laugh for the first time, a good, hearty, proper belly laugh (and bonus giggle!), was not supposed to be such a life changing experience.

“You really do his voice so well,” Arthur said, still smiling. “I like Gwaine. He's a good guy.”

Merlin blinked rapidly and wiped the smile from his face. He turned back to his bag and shook his head. There was no way to magically transport nonexistent pajama pants to his backpack.

“Whatever,” he whispered, pulling his tee over his head. 

Heat spread over his bare back, eyes tracking over his shoulder blades. He stood up and popped the button of his jeans. He shimmied them down his thighs, adjusting the waistband of his green plaid boxers. The bed shifted behind him.

His fingertips itched, arm aching to hit the lights. Very rarely did he feel nervous about undressing in front of others. He glanced over his shoulder. Arthur was laying on his stomach, his arms wrapped around a pillow. Merlin let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

He balled his socks and tucked them into the front pocket of his backpack. He padded over to the front door.

“I'm gonna hit the lights.”

Arthur grunted an unintelligible response. Merlin dimmed the room lights. He returned to the floor near the sofa and kneeled down. He grabbed the pillow and laid down, pulling the blanket over his body. The carpet was thick enough to sleep on, and the blanket rolled around his entire body like a comfortable cocoon. 

He shut his eyes and tried to ignore Arthur's even breathing in the background. Sleeping in the same room as a lover was something he worked to get over, but sleeping in the room of such an arrogant idiot would not be as easy.

After a minute Arthur's voice, deep and rumbling, asked, “What are you doing?”

Merlin didn't open his eyes.

“I'm sleeping.”

“On the floor?” Arthur's voice rang with genuine curiosity.

“Yes.”

“The couch is right there.”

Merlin curled himself up tighter in the blanket and rubbed his feet together. He smiled sleepily.

“Gwaine is a big time sleep snuggler. I'd rather spare Lance that, since he was kind enough to let us crash.” 

“Oh. Whatever.”

Arthur shifted under the covers. Merlin shut his eyes again and flipped onto his back. He itched his stomach and pressed his toes together, cracking them. There was a dramatic sigh from the bed.

“Are you going to be wiggling around all night? I can't sleep with that racket.”

“You're legitimately grumbling,” Merlin laughed, burying his face in the pillow. “Relax. We've been in the room for, like, five minutes. And besides, this isn't fun for me either.”

“Then just,” Arthur sat up in bed, eyes landing on the lump that was Merlin, “get up and come sleep in the bed.”

Merlin's eyes opened. His mouth moved without sound. Finally he said, “What bed?”

“You idiot. This one. It's huge.”

“But...You're in that bed.”

Arthur laid down again and spoke into his pillow, “Your way with words is rivaled only by your way with paint.”

Merlin hopped up from the floor, holding his pillow to his chest. He stood next to the bed.

“I'm going to come into bed.”

Arthur just shook his head and moved to the left side.

“Do you announce everything you do?”

Merlin sighed and lifted the duvet. He sat on the bed and swung his legs inside. In an instant, his limbs felt less achey and his body felt tingly. There was none of the horror he would have predicted if anyone would have told him he would have to share a bed with Arthur Pendragon.

“This is a really nice bed,” he whispered to himself, settling on his side. He shut his eyes. Arthur breathed softly next to him. He opened his right eye only. “And, um, thank you for letting me crash.”

Arthur just hummed. The blond peeked over his shoulder at Merlin's bare back, his long limbs still under the blanket. His nostrils flared when he smelled something boyishly sweaty and shampoo sweet. He looked at the bottom of Merlin's hairline, black hair curled up at the ends and around his ears. His ears, Arthur thought with a soft smile. 

Merlin rolled his shoulder forward in the socket and turned onto his stomach, Arthur's eyes snapping back to the hotel wall. They were quiet for a few minutes, during which both fell into the awkward non-sleep of someone who knew another person was listening to them fall asleep.

“So, you don't like to sleep with other people in the room?”

Merlin wiggled his toes ever so slightly. Arthur felt the gentle movement near his own feet, the sheet lifting up and down with each motion.

“That's what I said, isn't it?”

“What about when you fuck someone?”

“That is none of your business,” Merlin said on a groan, curling the pillow over his ear. Arthur's voice said something, but the expensive down pillow had molded to Merlin's ear, blocking most sound. He pulled it up. “What?”

“Nevermind,” Arthur snapped. 

He pulled the blanket tighter over his shoulder. He shut his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep. Then Merlin shifted closer to him. Not enough to alarm, but enough to feel his body heat.

“When I have an overnight guest, I'm...I don't sleep that well. Unless it's someone I know really well.”

“That sounds inconvenient.”

“Correct,” Merlin said softly. He played with the edge of the comforter, twisting it between his fingers.

“Do you ever think about orientation?”

Merlin bit his tongue. He could respond in so many ways, with a quip about Arthur's sexuality or about the orientation of a portrait or some other smart ass retort. Instead he just listened to Arthur's bare feet shifting under the sheets. 

He didn't turn over to face Arthur, but he responded quietly, “I think a lot about orientation, and the many silly things I did and said.” Arthur let out a small breath; a laugh, maybe? “Why do you ask?”

Arthur made a noise that definitely sounded like a small laugh.

“Do you think it's weird we've never talked about it?”

Merlin blinked in the darkness.

“About what?”

Arthur's foot prodded his calf.

“C'mon. Don't be silly.”

Merlin sighed and turned over. He was met with Arthur's bare back, muscled and smooth in the dark room. He bit his bottom lip, stifling his urge to lean forward and start sucking.

“You mean the, uh, orgy-ish thing?”

Arthur's back shook with laughter. He had a small, pale brown birth mark in the very center of his shoulder blades that danced as he laughed. He started to turn on his opposite side. Merlin's eyes darted to his lightly haired chest. Arthur didn't seem bothered, one of his arms tucked under the pillow. There was enough distance between them so as not to be alarmed by seeing each other's nipples.

“Yes,” Arthur stated, his voice back to being bored as usual. “The orgy-ish thing.”

Merlin shrugged his shoulder forward. Arthur's eyes followed the motion, along with the gentle ripple of his small bicep.

“I mean, we were both hooking up, just on the same bed. What's the big thing?”

“Have you done it since?”

“What, had sex?”

Arthur laughed, “No,” and shook his head. “I mean, that sort of thing. A group thing.”

“Hm...No.” He shrugged again, fingers back to playing with the comforter. He couldn't hold Arthur's strong, interested gaze. “It's not really my thing, usually,” he clarified quietly. “Groups.”

“Me either. I...I woke up with all these people the day after that party. Completely naked,” Merlin laughed hysterically, Arthur laughing despite his horrified look, “with no recollection of how I got there.”

“That's so scary!”

“I know!” Arthur giggled the same sort of high pitched, sweet laugh he let out earlier that night. Inside, he was shaking. Merlin was the first person he'd decided to tell about that morning. Why, he had no idea. “I couldn't run fast enough to student health to get myself tested.”

“I guess I was lucky,” Merlin said. He smoothed the duvet. “I woke up in my room with Gwaine spooning me in bed. I did barf all day, though.”

Arthur's smile abruptly fell from his face, the bed temperature dropping. Merlin's brows twitched together.

“What?”

“Are you two together or what?”

“Wh—Who--Me and Gwaine?!” Merlin got out on a laugh, giggling wildly. He shook his head while he laughed. “Oh God, no. We're just best friends.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Seems like he's into you.”

“Me?” Merlin touched his bare chest, still giggling. “Nah. We made out once on my birthday last year and it was like kissing a brother.” He shivered at the memory of their drunken, strange, albeit warm, two minute long make out session. “He's a great cuddler though.”

Arthur cleared his throat and turned onto his back. Merlin propped himself up a bit, peering down at Arthur's face. Even in the dark room his profile, the lines of his face, looked noble and strong.

“What happened with Ava?”

The lines of Arthur's face went crazy, crunching and scrunching into a frown.

“She's out of her mind.” He turned his head to look at Merlin. “Why would you even ask me that?”

Merlin sputtered a shocked laugh.

“You just asked me a million personal questions.” He turned onto his side to face away from Arthur. The bed bounced under him, indicating Arthur was doing the exact same thing. “Please try to keep your panties on.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“Oh, cool, you know my name. Glad to see Baltimore based cavemen have been making advancements.”

“Cavemen!?”

Merlin smiled into his pillow at Arthur's outraged exclamation. His buttons were so easy to push they might as well have been blinking bright red. Arthur huffed and took hold of the blankets, giving them a hard pull.

“Hey!” Merlin turned to face him, reaching for the covers, body shivering in just his boxers. “Give me some!”

“No,” Arthur replied, muffled, from beneath a heap of blankets.

“This just continues your running theme of being a hog,” Merlin muttered. “At everything.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“Okay, hog.”

Arthur turned over suddenly and threw blankets over Merlin's head. Before Merlin could protest his rude, thoughtless action, Arthur's lips were on his and he was sprawled out beneath him, moaning in pleasure. He gripped Arthur's hair and sucked on his soft lips, the bed creaking with their squirms. Both breathed hard into each other's mouths, Arthur's hot hands cupping Merlin's cheeks. 

Alarm bells wailed in Merlin's head and Arthur's eyes couldn't quite stop staring at Merlin's face, if only to confirm that somehow they were making out as if it were the apocalypse.

The air conditioner buzzed in the background while their heads tilted, sweet groans shared between them, their lips sucking slowly. Arthur laced one hand in Merlin's hair, tilting his head back. Their tongues darted out for a gentle brush that was quickly forgotten, both surging forward to try and out kiss the other. Arthur moaned into his mouth and tugged on his hair, a wild tremble running up Merlin's entire body.

“Arth--” 

Merlin gasped and pulled back for a split second. Their eyes locked. Arthur's throat bobbed, Merlin's mouth trembling, their chests panting against each other.

“Is this really about to happen?” Merlin whispered.

“I...” Arthur's breath smelled like mint. “Do you...”

Arthur's wide eyes looked silver, his hair falling to tangle with Merlin's dark locks. Their heads snapped towards the door. There were voices in the hall. 

They both moved apart. Arthur rolled away from Merlin and pulled the blankets up to his neck. Merlin scrambled to get out of bed, his bare feet tripping on the carpet. He stumbled to the blanket he'd set up earlier and got under. 

It was all the quick activity that made his blood pound, he told himself. Arthur's heart was equally enthusiastic, his eyes wild as he stared at the wall.

Gwaine's giggle could be heard through the door, along with a failed swipe of a keycard. Arthur's voice cut through the room.

“I'm going to Peru for the summer.”

“I'm going to Paris,” Merlin replied.

They said nothing else. Their bodies were rigid, Arthur at the edge of the bed closest to the wall, Merlin so tight on the floor that his toes were pointed. Both pretended to be asleep while their friends stumbled inside.

Lance and Gwaine tried to be as quiet as possible while entering the room. Lance succeeded with flying colors; he barely made a peep as he washed his face and undressed for bed. Gwaine, though totally sober, seemed to have feet of lead that pounded around the room even while attempting to tiptoe. His whispers to Lance might as well have been uttered by a child in a pre-school Christmas musical. 

It wasn't even surprising to Merlin when Gwaine lifted his blanket and sidled up behind him on the floor, despite the couch bed Merlin had set up for him. He was pulled into a cuddle with an arm loose around his waist. He heard the familiar slap of Gwaine's lips mix in with Lance's gentle snore. Even his snore was pleasant.

Merlin turned over to press himself against Gwaine's chest. Gwaine lifted his arm and squinted at the top of Merlin's head. He wrapped Merlin in his arms, soothing hands rubbing the center of his back.

“Hello, my little pumpkin muffin,” he whispered happily. Merlin burrowed his face into his neck and didn't reply. Gwaine frowned, stroking his hair. “You alright?”

“Mmhmm,” Merlin hummed. He hugged Gwaine tighter. “M'fine.”

“Alright, little prince, if you say so.” Gwaine kissed his temple and jostled him closer. “Sleep well.”

 

**Saturday April 5**

The sophomore year class managed to get to MOMA without any huge issues. Gaius kept dark sunglasses on for the entire introduction at the beginning of the day, mumbling something about meeting up with an old friend and their old wine the night before. Who knew that Professor Gaius could get down?

They toured the museum with instructions to meet at the Leon Lane exhibit at one. Then they would all get lunch at a restaurant near the museum. MIA had decided to spring for that, at least. 

Students broke into small groups, chatting amongst themselves while taking notes for their assignment. Arthur was just happy it would be a quiet day, one where he didn't have to speak to anyone. He could just look at art, take notes, and avoid a certain painter. That certain painter was in the same boat and happily let himself be pulled into a group with Gwaine and Elena and a few other chatty students. 

The Leon Lane exhibit was crowded before the sophomore class filtered in. It was gorgeous in a tragic way and was already getting an insane amount of buzz. Leon had based this particular collection on a Baltimore family with two fathers. He painted portraits of their large life events over the past five years; a high school graduation, a wedding, a funeral. They were abstract, but soft. They blended into each other as life events tend to do. A big moment will fly by before you realize it's over, and in hindsight everything is tender. That was what Leon's portraits did, only in the most pleasantly colorful way you could imagine.

Merlin was smiling to himself, studying a portrait of a dance recital, when someone sidled up next to him on the right side. 

“I can't wait for lunch, I'm fucking starving,” Merlin said softly. “I need a coffee immediately.”

“The painting can't be that boring, can it?”

Merlin looked abruptly to his right. His mouth popped open at the sight of a fit man with pale eyes and the softest looking ringlets of dark blond hair he'd ever seen. He wore dark skinny jeans and a well-worn brown blazer over a white collared shirt. This was not dark, scruffy, handsome Gwaine.

“Oh, I—I'm, uh, I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else,” he blurted out. His wide eyes darted to the painting and back to the man's amused face. “The painting is great! I really love it.”

The man chuckled and said, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“You're--” Arthur came into his peripheral vision, momentarily distracting him. They caught eyes, Arthur scowling and walking in the opposite direction. Merlin steeled himself. “You're Leon Lane?”

Leon's face glowed with a small smile, his fingers running through his hair. His cheeks flushed, and he looked just so boyish and shy.

“Didn't you Google me for the assignment?”

“I'm not much of a Googler, to be honest,” Merlin said, smiling. He didn't know how he was being so chatty with a world famous painter, but Leon was smiling at him in such a kind way. He felt comfortable enough to chatter. “I prefer to learn on my own.”

“Admirable.” Leon held his hand out. “I'm Leon, by the way. Leon Lane.”

“Yes, I, uh,” Merlin laughed as they shook hands, “surmised.” Leon's eyes lit up at the sound. “I'm Merlin.”

“Oh, good word, Merlin.” Their hands released, but their bodies were still within touching distance. “I see MIA has been keeping up with their excellent liberal arts requirements.”

Merlin giggled something that sounded like, “Yeah, right,” Leon's eyes falling to his nose. 

“Your nose wrinkles when you laugh,” he pointed out quietly. Merlin's face grew hot under his stare, Leon smiling at him with his hand rubbing over his stubbled chin. Or maybe he was trying to hide the blush spreading over his face. “Dimples, too.” 

Across the room, Lance and Arthur completed their notes on the project. 

“Hmm, looks like Merlin's made a new friend,” Gwaine laughed, joining them in front of a portrait of the family walking a dog. 

Lance looked over Gwaine's shoulder and smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at his friends. 

“Merlin should get the Miss Congeniality award for our class. He could make friends with a tree.”

“I believe he's done that already with a dogwood near the cafeteria,” Gwaine said, scribbling in his notebook.

“He's probably just talking to him because we're from MIA,” Arthur said, yawning. Though he was actually very sleepy, the yawn was perfect to illustrate just how little he cared about Merlin's new friend. Merlin never seemed to be without a fawning admirer. He put his small notebook in his back jeans pocket. “Let's move on. This painting is boring me.”

Gaius stood in the center of the room and clapped his hands together. Leon squeezed Merlin's shoulder and whispered, “That's my cue.” Merlin smiled at him and nodded, watching him walk towards the professor.

“Students, let's all gather together.” He beamed at Leon, his eyes landing on Merlin for a moment. Merlin stepped towards Gwaine, his face still burning. “We're lucky enough to have the incredibly talented Leon Lane here with us today for a brief question and answer session.”

The students all buzzed with excitement, the group closing in closer to Gaius and the handsome painter.

“I promise I'll keep it brief. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm dying for lunch,” Leon said, his kind smile and easy words sending ripples of laughter through the class.

A few questions were lobbed back and forth. Some were helpful (like how to promote yourself once you're out of school) while others were a bit silly (like what Brad Pitt smells like [Leon had been commissioned by the celebrity to create a piece for his California home]). Before they knew it a museum attendant had slipped into the room. 

“And that's all we have time for, unfortunately,” Gaius said, resting his hand on Leon's shoulder. “But Leon will be at lunch with us, so if you'd like to chat, perhaps he can be swayed between bites.”

The class followed Gaius and Leon out of the exhibit. Merlin was pulled into a side hug by Gwaine. Gwaine smiled at him and looked ahead.

“You alright, sweetling?” Gwaine whispered from the side of his mouth. He nodded at a few friends who bumped into him and Merlin. His eyes landed on Merlin's face. He rubbed his thumb on the curve of Merlin's neck. “You seemed sad last night.”

Merlin flushed when he saw Leon up ahead, many student between them. Leon glanced over his shoulder to shoot him a smile, as if he was tracking where Merlin was walking. Merlin smiled tightly.

“Yeah, I'm fine, thanks,” he whispered back to Gwaine. “Just tired.”

“Well, we have a luxurious bus ride ahead of us. We could cuddle if you want, you know, to make you less tired.”

Merlin laughed, “Yeah, sure,” and squirmed, Gwaine rubbing his knuckles against the top of his head. 

 

**Wednesday April 17**

As Gwen wiped down the counter of Donna's, she heard quiet tapping on the locked door. She glanced over her shoulder, prepared to inform the person they were closed, when she saw a warmly smiling freckled face. 

“Please,” Percy said through the door, clenching his hands together in hopeful prayer.

She laughed and tossed the cloth on the counter. She walked over and unlocked it.

“You're lucky you're one of my favorites,” she smiled, closing the door behind him. “I have a paper due tomorrow that I've been trying to type on my cell phone between customers. My cell phone! It's been tedious, that's for sure.”

“I swear, I'll be fast. Just give me whatever you have left. I don't want to dirty anything.”

She hummed and pulled out a large plastic to-go cup. She looked around the remaining items.

“I haven't dumped the iced yet, you want that?”

“Yes, please,” he replied enthusiastically. “Two if possible. And whatever cookies you have left, please.”

She quirked an amused eyebrow as she added another plastic cup to the counter. She pulled a pitcher with sloshing black liquid from under the counter.

“Oh really?” She filled both cups with ice. “Two coffees?”

“I, um, got some good news,” he said shyly, itching behind his ear. “So, I'm...I mean, me and a friend...We're going to celebrate.” 

Gwen hummed in interest, pouring coffee into both cups. She had her back to him while placing the empty pitcher in the sink. 

“What's the good news?”

Percy's voice was quiet, but excited.

“I can transfer to MIA starting in the fall.”

Gwen spun around, cookies flying towards Percy.

“That's wonderful!!”

She ran around the counter to throw her arms around him. Though he was new to their group, his cameos during hangouts had always been absolutely lovely. And his hugs were sent from heaven. Though Gwen was madly in love with a certain architect, she could still appreciate Percy's...Size.

“Oh, Percy, I'm so happy for you,” she said against his large shoulder. Percy chuckled into her hair. “That's wonderful. Merlin and Gwaine and everyone will be so excited!”

“Yeah, I'm sure,” he said, still laughing. “They're stuck with me now.”

His phone rang in his back pocket. Gwen released him from a bone crunching hug and patted his chest with both hands, still smiling.

“I'll pack up some cookies and stuff.” She produced a white bakery box from under the counter. “We throw it all out anyway. It's such a waste.”

“Sure, thanks,” he said, half paying attention, struggling to pull the vibrating device out. “Thanks so much, Gwen. You're the best.”

He caught sight of the screen and couldn't control his blazing smile. Gwen smirked at him as she packed cookies, though he likely did not notice. He seemed mesmerized by whoever was calling him. 

She placed the filled box and his coffees on the counter, resuming her closing work. It was difficult not to eavesdrop, but she could hear him softly say, “Yeah, I'm at Donna's. Gwen let me in.” Ah ha, she thought. So whoever he was talking to knew her. That narrowed the pool a bit. A pause passed. “I know, she's the best. But I'll be back at my place in a few minutes.” His smile was evident, even though his back was to her. “Yeah, I'll see you soon.” He laughed ever so softly. “Me too. Alright, yeah.” He laughed again. “Yes, I promise I'm bringing one for you too. 'Kay, bye.”

He ended the call, cradling the phone in his hands. When he turned to face her, Gwen was sitting on a barstool, resting her chin on her palm. Her purse was looped over her shoulder, her ankles crossed and swaying. The cafe looked ready to close, his goods packed neatly on the end of the counter. She smiled amusedly at him, her eyebrows raised.

“Someone special?”

“Uh, yeah, um, a good friend,” Percy bumbled, replacing his phone in his pocket with jerky motions. “We're going to hang out. Just hang out. We're friends.” He pulled his wallet out. “How much was all this? I'm so sorry to be a pain, and thank you again for--”

“Ah, don't worry about it,” she said, hopping off the stool. She handed him his coffee carrier and bakery box. She winked. “Enjoy your night of celebration. We'll have to do something with the group soon.”

“Merlin wants to do it maybe this weekend? He's at work now.”

“Sounds perfect,” she said, patting Percy's shoulder. She hit the lights.

“Are you absolutely sure I can't pay you for this?” He walked backwards, Gwen pushing him towards the door. Her keys were pressing against his chest. “You've been so kind--”

“Don't be silly! You got the end of the coffee pot and some stale cookies,” she laughed softly. “Go.” She pushed him out the door. “Have fun!”

Percy grinned wide, his body practically vibrating with excitement. He waved as much as he could with his hands full of snacks and hurried towards Charles Street. She locked the door from the outside. 

“So cute,” she whispered to herself, pocketing the keys.

“Hello, my lady.”

She smiled and spun around. Her face felt warm, her stomach tingling with butterflies.

“What are you doing here?”

Before she could walk down the three stone steps, Lance scooped her into his arms. He bundled her into a giggled hug, Gwen kissing both of his cheeks quickly.

“I finished early with my group project and figured I could help with your paper.” He smiled sneakily, nuzzling their noses. “Or, I could just watch you type and offer moral support. You know what Studious Gwen does to me.”

“Aw, that's nice of you,” she said, replacing her feet on the ground. She cupped Lance's handsome face, pressing their lips together. “I thought you said it'd take you all night?”

“It should have, but Gwaine miraculously wanted to get down to business tonight, so we finished super fast. Arthur was in one of his quiet moods and the other people just sort of let Gwaine take the lead.”

Gwen hummed into another kiss, their hands linking together. Lance led them towards her Bilt dorm. 

“That's funny. He's usually so chatty.”

“Dunno what it was, but something lit a fire under his ass. He was downright efficient.” Lance blinked twice, staring straight ahead. “It was kind of frightening.”

“Very interesting,” Gwen said, biting her bottom lip with a secret smile.

 

**Thursday April 25**

With finals and juries a matter of days away, the sophomore class went into crunch mode. Studio time became incredibly tight. Tension was running high. Freshman year juries were rumored to be a bit easier, since everyone was new. Juries for Sophomore year were no joke. 

“I can't believe we're almost halfway done with the program,” Lance said, yawning. He yawned after every other word. Gwen was supposedly en route with coffees for everyone. He flipped through a binder, panic shortening his breath. “Shit. Does anyone have the outline for Textiles?”

Merlin and Arthur didn't look up from their work but both handed Lance printout of the outline from opposite ends of the library table.

“You two are vying for the biggest nerd award,” Gwaine teased, Elena giggling while balancing a highlighter on her nose.

Both caught eyes with their arms still extended. They had yet to speak since the night in the hotel. Whether it was fear, embarrassment, disgust, nerves, they just wouldn't speak. They had ignored each other in classes, in group events, and in hangouts. As far as either was concerned, the other didn't exist. 

Sophie perked up, “Oh, Arthur, lemme borrow yours. I think I,” forgot to complete, “misplaced mine.”

Arthur broke their stare and handed it to her. He resumed studying, Merlin letting Lance borrow his outline.

“Hello, my friends,” Gwen's soft voice said from above, like a beacon from coffee heaven. Gwaine looked so excited his eyes teared up. “I come bearing caffeine and sugar.”

The group all attacked the bags of pastries and cups of coffee as quietly as they could. Gwen pulled a chair over form an adjacent table and sat between Lance and Arthur. At the first sip of coffee Merlin sighed, sitting back in his chair.

“Fuck, that's good,” he murmured, earning a few giggles. He straightened up. “What?”

“You sound like you just came from a cup of coffee,” Gwaine said.

Lance slid his arm around Gwen and proudly said, “Gwen makes the best coffee on earth.”

Gwen blushed and pressed her face into Lance's neck.

“C'mon, enough flirting, you,” she teased, kissing his nose. “I'm done with the term, but you have to get this done.” Her voice hardened just enough to make Lance sit up straight. “Now.”

Arthur smiled with a mouth full of cheese danish. Lance had already said he'd be out of their room that night.

“Arthur, are you doing the prep concert again?”

The cheese danish promptly went down the wrong pipe. He coughed into his hand, turning away from the table. Gwen hurried to hand him her bottle of water, the potter gulping it down. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she whispered, patting him between his shoulder blades. “I don't think anyone heard me. Did you not--”

“It's okay,” he rasped, still coughing slightly. He wiped his hand over his lips. “I...I didn't feel prepared enough.” He frowned. “Not enough practice time this year.”

“Understandable,” she said kindly. “Lance said you haven't been practicing that much lately.” Arthur offered her a small, guilty smile, coughing with his lips together. “Did you keep up with lessons?”

“When I could, I would. Maybe next year I'll be able to do the prep.”

Gwen rubbed his back again and Arthur looked down at his notes. He could see why Lance was so crazy about Gwen. It must be nice to have someone supporting you and rooting you on. 

“Pendragon, you look down. Want a neck rub? Merlin loves my neck rubs when he's stressed.”

While Merlin flushed and pulled a book up to cover his face, Arthur looked bemused at Gwaine.

“I'm fine, thanks.”

 

**Saturday May 11**

The school year ended. Students jetted off to internships and summer programs. Some were sad to find no acceptance letters in their mailboxes and had to scramble for something to do. Merlin and Arthur had their own things lined up, but were among the students who were invited to a mysterious end of year brunch. MIA loved throwing a brunch.

They joined eight other students in the Monet Lounge, which was usually reserved for teacher functions. It was all done up in white. White tablecloth covered a long banquet table that stretched through the center of the room. Steaming sterno dishes of breakfast food were laid out on a matching serving table. The scent of fresh coffee was rich in the air.

A quick glance around the room told Merlin and Arthur that none of their close friends were included in the group. The students milled awkwardly near the door of the room. 

“Welcome, welcome,” Gaius said, gliding past the confused group of students. He picked up a plate. He looked around himself, then turned to the students. “What are you all gaping at? There's free food for all!”

That got the students to move, plates passed around and breakfast spooned generously. Merlin made a concerted effort to sit at the opposite end of the table from Arthur, who wordlessly agreed with him. They ate in silence, students and other faculty members talking around them. 

“I'm sure you're all wondering why you are here,” Gaius said. He dabbed the corners of his lips with a crisp white napkin. “And I'm here to congratulate all of you.” He lifted his mug of coffee. “You are the top ten in your class.”

The students smiled in unison. Arthur and Merlin caught eyes, their smiled fading fast. 

“The administration wanted to reward you all for your hard work,” Gaius continued, sipping his coffee. “You've all done exceptionally well...”

Gaius continued to ramble about their achievements. Merlin focused on swallowing his pancakes. He appreciated a free meal, but he still had packing to do for France. He had a passport, but needed to get a medical clearance form completed before he left. Then there was the issue of making sure his cell and bank account would transfer overseas, which he'd heard horror stories about from friends. The last thing he needed was to get nailed with a bill for roaming and--

“Merlin?”

The painter looked up from his plate, eyes wide. Every eye in the room was on him. Did he have eggs on his face?

He blinked at Gaius.

“Yes, sir?”

Gaius' lips crinkled into a smirk.

“I was merely pointing out that you're the one to beat, at the moment.” 

Merlin squinted, asking, “What?”

“The top of the class, my boy,” Gaius laughed, the room laughing along with him. He winked at the dean, who was seated to his left. “I promise you, he's actually quite bright.”

Merlin's face went red as a strawberry, the tips of his ears on fire. He swallowed a dry mix of saliva and pancake residue. 

“Oh, uh,” he coughed softly, voice cracking, “thank you. I mean, that's great to know.” He smiled at the dean. “I love it here. It's my honor.”

Across the table, Arthur rolled his eyes as he gulped a mouthful of tea. Suck up.

“Though I wouldn't get too comfortable,” Gaius said, buttering yet another muffin. “Arthur Pendragon is just one tenth of a point behind you.”

The room vibrated with polite laughter. 

“I believe in you, Pendragon,” the dean said, nodding at the stunned blond.

Arthur swallowed his tea and smiled tightly. He and Merlin stared at each other across the table The sound of cutlery on plates mingled with the chatting brunch group. Plates of scones were passed around, along with pitchers of mimosas.

It was as if the painter and the potter were speaking without words. The term was over. It was incredibly close between them. They were different disciplines; there was no need to interact or compete. There was no more time for fucking around. They were halfway through with their undergraduate education and the second half would fly by. 

On to the summer.


	2. Junior Year

## 

Summer between Sophomore and Junior year

Arthur traveled to Peru and learned just how much his body could sweat. How much he could stink. How much his muscles could ache. How little he needed technology. And how much he fucking loved doing nothing but pottery and sculpture and eating food so fresh it was picked, prepared, and served all within an hour. 

He was so exhausted that the thought of a summer romance, or a relationship in general, was the last thing on his mind. It was his first summer of being single. He couldn't get over how refreshing it was not to be dealing with unnecessary relationship drama. 

That's not to say he was a monk. He spent a few sweaty hours each week with a cafe waiter named Claude. They spoke very little to each other, but they managed to communicate when needed. Top. Bottom. Yes. Faster. They were all sort of universal after a while.

He returned to Baltimore tanner and leaner than he'd ever been, though his shoulders were somehow broader with muscle, his back rippling with strength.

. . .

Lance and Gwen both happened to travel to Europe for summer programs, Lance in Austria and Gwen in Prague. Their Facebook photos together were so sugar sweet that even Arthur commented on how cute they were. Gwen competed in her first international flute festival competition and placed second, while Lance was offered a paid internship at the firm for the next summer. It was a productive, and adorable, summer for them.

. . .

Gwaine decided not to enroll in a set program or attempt an internship. Instead, he globetrotted from friend to friend. He managed to date a new person in each location. He loved a good summer romance, especially when travel was involved.

He started in Austria (Paul, a neighbor), as his parents owned a home there. Then moseyed to Prague (Katrina, a woman he met at a disco). He then hopped to Paris (Garnier, one of Merlin's friends from his internship) for a week with Merlin. He flew to Peru to see a family friend he'd always sort of had a thing for (named Paulo [which was strange, as he'd already hooked up with someone named Paul over the summer]) and happened to bump into Arthur at a cafe. He only lasted three days at that destination. The heat made him crabby. Paulo was very lovely, though.

He forgot to secure off campus housing and scrambled to find an apartment in the days leading up to junior year. Luckily, Percy had an incredibly comfortable sofa in his one-bedroom, which Gwaine crashed on for a few nights. Just a few nights, before he found a one bedroom in Merlin's building in Mount Vernon.

. . .

Arthur and Lance secured a two bedroom in a luxury apartment. The building included a rooftop pool and a complementary cafe on the ground floor. It also had, much to their chagrin, a doorman and a concierge. Gwaine had already made friends with both and was given a permanent pool pass for himself and guests, all without living in the building.

. . .

Merlin bleached his hair bright blond. Then he dyed it red.

Merlin gained ten pounds, born mostly of creamy cheese and crusty bread (and lots and lots of wine).

Merlin did an entire collection of paintings based on dragons.

Merlin also fell in love.

He was out of the country, interning in a Paris museum, and he met Elliot. 

Elliot, Elliot, Elliot.

Elliot was a fellow intern, was twenty-two, and was also a painter. He was a thin, dirty blond (in more ways than one) from London. He possessed an accent that was basically a guaranteed in to whatever pants he wanted to get into. It took him one week and two days to get into Merlin's pants. He was an incredible kisser with an oral fixation. He liked to snuggle and was especially fond of taking long naps with Merlin, then awakening him with a little bit of sleepy head. It was a match made in artistic heaven.

It seemed like fate when Elliot declared he had no desire to finish his degree program in London. He was from old money; degrees or jobs meant very little to him. Instead, he preferred to move to America and explore, which was just fine with Merlin.

They returned to America together on the same flight. Merlin became a member of the mile high club. The international mile high club. Twice.

They moved into Merlin's bedroom. It was temporary, but exciting. It was the first time that Merlin had lived with a lover. It was the first time he had someone permanent to come home to. It was the first time he spoke to his mother over the phone about who he was seeing. It was the first time he went to dinner with his mom and his boyfriend when she came to visit before the term started.

He'd decided the previous term that his roommate relationship with Mordred was perfect. Mordred was never around, had excellent taste in furniture, and was a generally nice guy. 

They had secured a comfortable two bedroom in Mount Vernon by paying their rent very far in advance. It was much closer to the Bilt than MIA, but Mikado was just a few minutes walk away. The kitchen was a little small, but the classic architecture and generous room dimensions more than made up for it. 

In the couple of weeks leading up to junior year, Merlin and Elliot would cook together, laugh together, sleep together, and dream together. The painter was smitten in the worst way.

## Junior Year

**Friday August 20**

“Morgana, you can't be serious.”

“Arthur, it's an excellent, growing, high income area in need of a spa,” Morgana explained, dusting her hands together. “The demographic is perfect for Spagana. We've been looking for a location for our next spa; why not Baltimore?” She stood on tiptoe, even with her four inch sandal heels, and fastened a corner to the large window. “What's so bad about us spending time together?”

Arthur attached the opposite corner to the window. The windows of the second floor were now entirely covered by chic posters proclaiming an upcoming Spagana location. Only his sister could create a spa with such a silly name and make it a worldwide, well received brand.

“Nothing. It's fine. Just...Interesting,” he laughed. She twirled in the center of the empty room, her white sundress swaying around her. “We haven't lived in the same state since we were kids.”

“I'm looking forward to it. I can't wait to meet all of your little artsy friends.” She dug in her black hobo bag and held out a bottle of hand sanitizer. Arthur extended his hand to receive a dollop. He rubbed his hands together. “Now,” she closed the cap and tossed it into her bag, “can we please get food?” She pouted her red stained lips at him, blinking her eyes pleadingly. “I'm going to faint if I don't get some sushi ASAP.”

Arthur knew just the place. They walked together towards Mikado, Baltimore heat and humidity clinging to their skin.

“Fuck, it's hot,” she said, fanning herself. 

Arthur shrugged. 

“I don't mind it.”

“That's because you're nuts, Prince of Peru.”

Arthur laughed and held the door open for her. They entered the building that housed Donna's, Mikado, and a variety of other businesses. The burst of air conditioning prickled their skin in the most refreshing of ways.

“El, I've got to go work,” a familiar voice whispered softly, two voices laughing amongst smushing sounds. “C'mon, I told Mr. Hsu I'd go in early. He's short. I wanna help out.”

“Aw, c'mon, Merly. Don't you want to come back to bed with me? I wanna make cookies, too.”

Another round of quiet laughter and soft kissing sounds. Morgana put her hand on Arthur's chest to stop his steps.

“Shh, they're really attractive,” she whispered, eyes glowing. “I wanna see if they makeout a bit.”

“Ugh, fuck, you're insane,” Arthur laughed loudly. “I don't need to know about your guy on guy fantasies.”

His laughter must have jarred the duo from their whispering and kissing. Merlin's head popped out from around the corner. He and Arthur froze when they saw each other, Merlin's kiss swollen lips fallen open. Arthur blinked at the top of Merlin's head.

“Hi there,” Elliot said, his arm slung around Merlin's shoulder. He smiled wide at Morgana. “Aren't you gorgeous?”

Arthur's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He took a step closer to his sister.

“You are adorable,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “And British. Charming!” She turned her attention to Merlin, who was blushing but seemed quite happy. “And you. Hello, cheekbones!” Arthur cleared his throat and shifted next to her, his eyes on the ceiling. “Both of you.” She waved her well manicured fingers in the air. “Please, do continue.”

“Please, do not continue,” Arthur immediately said. He nodded curtly at Merlin. “Hi.”

It was as if saying one syllable was an event that deserved olive branches and the releasing of doves.

“Hi,” Merlin said, unable to hold Arthur's stare. He smiled at Morgana while straightening his all black clothing. “I'm, uh,” he laughed mid-sentence, Elliot's hand sliding over his ass, “Merlin. I go to school with Arthur.”

“Ooh, a little artsy friend!” Morgana cooed, gripping Arthur's bicep. “How nice to meet you!”

Both Arthur and Merlin said, “We're not friends,” at the same time. 

Elliot and Morgana looked to each other. 

“Well, this is awkward,” Elliot laughed. Morgana laughed along with him, but neither Merlin or Arthur was laughing. He cupped Merlin's chin and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Merlin's eyelashes fluttered downward, his cheekbone rounding with a smile. “I've got to be going.” He quirked his thumb towards Mikado's door and clicked his teeth. “Just walking my boyfriend to work.”

Arthur just sighed. His features flattened. Even his blinks seemed to slow. Merlin nearly smiled. There was the bored, arrogant Arthur he knew (and avoided at all costs).

“Was nice to meet you!” Morgana called after him, waving. She slapped Arthur's arm. “Jesus Christ, Arthur, tell me again how you have any friends? Spa world, art world. It doesn't matter. It's all networking.”

“Oh, his friends are a generous group, that's for sure,” Merlin butted in, Morgana cackling. He held the door open. He tried not to smile too wide at Arthur's furious stare. Behave yourself, Merlin said to himself. Be a grown up. He held his hand towards the restaurant. “You guys going in here?”

“Yes, Merlin, we are.” Morgana tugged Arthur along with her. “Thank you.”

Arthur dragged his heels. “Maybe we should go eat at Donna's. Do you want--”

“We're having sushi,” Morgana said, holding her palm in his face while she and Merlin chatted.

Arthur trailed behind his sister and the biggest suck up in the history of MIA. Merlin laughed, Morgana blabbering to him about being new in the area. Does he like spa treatments? Would he want to possibly work the desk in her spa? Talk about networking.

“Here, sit in this section and I'll be right over to take care of you,” Merlin said, ushering them to the same table Arthur had sat at with his father a year before. “I'll bring menus in a second. I just need to drop my things in the back.”

“Take your time,” Morgana smiled, pulling her own chair into the table. She picked up the drink menu, eyes excitedly dancing over the options. “Oh, I like him, Arthur. He's the sweetest little thing.”

“He's...”

Arthur bit his tongue. The year hadn't even started yet. They'd wasted too much energy on each other. Any negative thought he had about Merlin would be staying inside for the next two years.

Merlin returned to the table with two menus and a bowl of steaming edemame.

“On the house,” he said softly, standing next to Arthur. Morgana beamed at him, shocked and pleased. He smiled. “Do you want some drinks?”

“I'm going to get the Gin Rummy Tummy,” Morgana declared. “Do you want a drink, Arthur?”

Arthur mulled over the fact that his sister now lived five minutes from him, and the fact that she picked the exact same hideous drink as their father. He felt toxic suddenly, all these weird thoughts about his sister and father and Merlin (who now had bright red hair) and that skinny guy who was feeling Merlin up in a public hallway.

“I'll just do water,” he said. His throat felt parched. “Lots of water.”

 

**Tuesday August 23**

Elliot held onto Merlin's hand and tugged, pouting up at him.

“Merly, don't go,” he said softly, lengthening the last word. He kissed the top of his hand. “Stay in bed with me.”

Merlin straddled him, his jeans rubbing rough against Elliot's bare thighs. He held his cheeks to brush their lips together.

“I'll be back in a couple of hours.” He smiled brightly. “You want to come help? I'll wait for you to get dressed. I'll make you tea, if you'd like.”

“No,” Elliot sighed, falling back on the bed. He pulled Merlin's pale blue comforter over his lower half. He propped his hands behind his head, his thinly muscled torso flexing with effort. Merlin smirked at him and rubbed the bottom of his left foot with his thumbs; Elliot loved to put on a show. “I suppose I'll just wait here for you.” He batted his eyelashes. “Alone.” He put a quiver into his voice. “Horny.”

Merlin laughed and prodded his foot.

“You're being silly. I'll be back before you know it.”

. . .

Lance sat heavily on a stack of boxes and sighed. He looked up at the blazing sun and pulled a black elastic off his wrist. He bunched his hair on the top of his head, knotting it in a high bun. Sweat dripped from behind his ears down his neck, which was probably his least favorite feature of his body. Who has sweaty ears?

“Hey!”

He squinted through his black aviators. His damp face broke out in a wide smile. 

“Hey, man.” He stood up and brushed his palms against his khaki cargo shorts. He held his hand out, Merlin taking it and shaking it firmly. “Nice hair! When did you--” The painter pulled him into a quick hug. “Ugh, I'm all sweaty,” Lance laughed, Merlin patting between his shoulder blades and giggling near Lance's (sweaty) ear. They broke apart. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping you move into your new place!” He pulled a frosty six pack of Brooklyn Lager from behind his back. Lance nearly swooned. “Think of this as an early housewarming.”

“Aw, man, you're just—That's so nice of you,” Lance said earnestly, squeezing Merlin's shoulder. “But, Gwen isn't here.”

Merlin's eyes looked confused through his black wayfarer sunglasses. “So what?”

“So, I just...I figured you'd only want to...” Lance felt horrible suddenly, Merlin still staring confusedly at him. How could he question Merlin's generosity? There was no reason to make it awkward, just because his girlfriend, and Merlin's best buddy, wasn't around. “Nevermind, I just...”

“It's okay,” Merlin laughed, popping the top of a beer. “I think we'll be fine without Gwen supervising.” He handed it to Lance, who appeared relieved. Merlin had a knack for making people feel happy. “I thought more people would be here. You put a thing on Facebook.”

“Yeah, well,” Lance took a long drink from the bottle, “people love a party, hate a move.” 

“Aw, well, some people aren't back from travel yet.”

Lance took another long draught, ice cold beer tingling as it slid down his throat to rest in his belly. He exhaled and laughed aloud, placing the bottle on his forehead. 

“Fuck, this beer is fucking good.” He tilted his head and lowered his sunglasses, peering at his friend. “You, Merlin Emrys, are truly magical.”

Merlin laughed and placed the rest of the six-pack on Lance's stoop.

“I dunno about that. What I do know, is that I'm probably going to be very little help.” He lifted his right arm and flexed it. “I've never even been able to do a pull up.”

Lance smiled, dropping the empty beer bottle in a box of books.

“Honestly? You could just pour beer into my mouth as I carry stuff into the elevator and that would be more than enough help.”

. . .

Arthur burst through the black door of his apartment.

“Lance, man,” he tossed his keys on the granite top table near the front door, “you in here?”

Lance called to him, “In the living room.”

“Shit, I'm so, so sorry I'm late for your moving truck,” Arthur said quickly, hurrying towards the brown suede sofa. “I totally fucked--”

“Don't even worry, man,” Lance said, quietly cursing, “Oh fuck you, you little fuck.”

Arthur continued to babble, “Morgana needed help with deliveries and she roped me in and--”

Two distinct voices cheered loud enough to shake the house, Lance screaming obscenities while a jollier voice shouted for victory. Arthur stopped talking when he saw Merlin's red hair peeking over the top of the sofa.

“Um...Hi,” he said, standing behind the couch. Lance's face popped up with a big smile, Merlin looking up at him with a smaller smile. They both looked sunburned, exhausted, and had Play Station controllers in their hands. “I didn't...” Arthur scratched behind his head. “Mean to interrupt.”

“Don't be silly,” Lance laughed, standing up from the sofa. The game was paused. “Merlin helped me carry shit. It's totally fine. We got it done in no time.”

Arthur's eyes briefly did a one over on Merlin. He didn't look like the moving type. 

The fridge opened in the background.

“Want a beer?” Lance asked.

“Um.” Arthur and Merlin's eyes met, the blond shrugging a shoulder. “Sure, thanks.” He dropped his messenger bag on the floor next to the coffee table. “I didn't buy any, did you?”

Lance appeared at his side bearing beer.

“No, Merlin brought it. Moving necessity.”

Arthur and Merlin looked at each other again. He took a hesitant sip and the painter ran a hand through his hair.

“Brooklyn Lager is one of my favorites,” Merlin said, standing from the couch.

'Me too,' Arthur mumbled inside his head. 

It was disconcerting, having Merlin in his living space. Merlin spending time with his best friend. Merlin drinking good beer. Arthur took another sip and toed his flip flops on, mentally discussing the future with himself. He'd have to get over it, get over the awkwardness with Merlin. He was a friend to all of his friends, plus being a classmate. He wasn't going anywhere.

“Merlin also whooped my ass in Madden,” Lance laughed, walking to the television. He squatted down and shut the game system down. “Like, beat me more than anyone has ever beat me. It was a massacre.”

Arthur's right eyebrow curved upward with his eyes still locked with the painter.

“You like beer and Play Station?” 

“I do.” Merlin's shirt still looked damp around the collar form the move. He frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing at Arthur. “What, is that hard to believe?”

Arthur shrugged and sipped his beer. Before he could say anything Merlin's phone rang from his back pocket. He pulled it out and studied the screen. His frown evaporated, a smile taking its place.

“Excuse me,” Merlin said softly, turning away. His voice took on a private tone, his smile beaming through his words, even if all he did was say, “Hey, El, what's up?” 

As he listened to whoever El was, Arthur watched him pad barefoot to the large window that took up almost their entire back wall. 

“Talk about make yourself comfortable,” he muttered ever so quietly against the rim of his beer bottle. 

 

**Thursday August 25**

“I'm going to be gone for, uh,” Mordred stared at his iCal, “like, three months?” He pocketed his phone and gripped the strap of his leather overnight bag. “I'll send you an email to let you know when I'll be back.”

“But—Rent--You paid,” Merlin babbled. “You and I paid a year up front to get that deal.”

“Eh, whatever. It's my parent's money.”

Merlin and Elliot both raised their eyebrows at the same time with a shared dumbfounded expression. The term hadn't even started yet. Mordred chuckled softly.

“Relax, relax. I'm kidding.” He moved towards the door. “I invented a new chat platform at my internsh—Well, I guess it's my job now.” He shrugged, lazy smile in place. “I'm doing just fine.” He opened the door. “See you two lovebirds in a few months. Try not to fuck on my bed--”

“Okay,” both said in unison.

“--but if you do, please change the sheets.”

“Sounds perfectly reasonable,” Merlin said, nodding. 

Mordred laughed, “Bye bye, then.”

“Bye!” Their right hands lifted to wave, Elliot's left hand inside Merlin's back pocket. Merlin added, “Safe travels!” 

Mordred called goodbye, his laugh echoing in the hall. The door shut loudly. 

“Mordred is the best roommate of all time,” Merlin giggled, beside himself. Elliot gripped both of Merlin's hands and kissed each of his knuckles. “Even in the dorms he was barely around for two years.” His brows furrowed. He pursed his lips. “I'm not even sure what his major was at MIA before he got this job.”

“I'll cook dinner for us to celebrate.”

Merlin smiled and pulled Elliot into his arms, both tumbling to the sofa in a mess of limbs and giggled kisses.

“Yay!” Merlin laughed, Elliot's fingers gently squeezing his tummy. “What are you gonna make?”

“Whatever you want.” Elliot kissed him deeply between whispered words, Merlin groaning under him. “Whatever you want, you gorgeous boy, you.” 

Merlin's fingers laced in his hair.

“Want you.”

“I can make that happen.”

They kissed again, Merlin's fingers looping in the waistband of Elliot's tight jeans. Elliot pulled back, his thumbs stroking Merlin's cheeks.

“Are you sure this will be okay, Merl?” Their lips opened together, tongues soft and tender. “I don't want to impose at all. Just say the word and I'll find my own place.”

Merlin smiled softly. He wrapped his arms around Elliot's waist.

“Okay, we can start looking or a place for you. But!” He flailed his arm above his head, gesturing to the entire empty apartment. “Let's enjoy the place to ourselves for now! Sound good?”

Elliot grinned in relief.

“Sounds perfect.”

 

**Thursday September 8**

Arthur pressed his bare feet and palms into the studio floor. He stretched his hamstrings, the dull burn causing him to groan aloud. He bent his knees and sank into child's pose. He breathed in deeply. The smell of clay and the warmth of the oven made him feel even more relaxed. The heat made him miss Peru. He smiled and slowly brought himself up from the floor.

He stored his fired pottery in a heatproof cubby labeled with his name. He'd been in the studio either throwing, glazing, or firing every day since he got back from Peru. Classes had started and he'd managed to balance class, art, and regular yoga. 

Ever since Peru he just felt...Right. He felt relaxed and focused. He wanted to create art and live his life. Maybe it was getting older or more comfortable with himself; with his art. Whatever it was, he loved it.

 

**Friday September 9**

“Has this week been overwhelming for you?”

“Um,” Percy pressed his lips together for a beat while studying the work table, “a little?” He carefully packed up the last of his illustrations and zipped his messenger bag. He smiled at his teacher, who was sitting reclined in his desk chair with both hands tucked behind his head. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows with thick black glasses sliding down his nose. “But the change is amazing. It's exactly the kind of overwhelming I would want.”

Professor Gallahad smiled kindly at him and patted his shoulder.

“That's the spirit!” He checked his watch and winced. “Time to go. Have dinner plans.” He shrugged on a worn brown blazer. “Excellent work, though. I'm very excited to work with you.”

Percy focused all of his remaining energy on not squealing like a pig at feeding time. Professor Gallahad was a wildly popular children's book illustrator, and Percy's first choice of private studio teacher when he applied to MIA. He was also rumored to be a tough teacher, despite what his profession would lead you to believe. He never expected to be accepted into his studio, let alone for Professor Gallahad to taking a shine to him after just one lesson.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Any plans for tonight?”

“Mostly to just go home and collapse,” Percy admitted with a laugh, his studio teacher laughing along with him.

Percy couldn't stop randomly smiling as he walked to his apartment. Sometimes it would be appropriate, like if a cute dog walked past, but other times he would just grin like a crazy person while thinking over the different lectures and classes he was able to absorb in just the first week of MIA.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket as he started up the steps to his apartment. He pulled it out and (surprise, surprise) smiled yet again. He took the steps two by two, black and moss colored tile blurring beneath his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, slightly out of breath. “What's up?”

“I'm just checking in on my favorite new student after his first week.”

Percy put his hand over the end of his phone to muffle a giggle. The soft sound echoed through the brownstone hallway.

“Do you do that every time I say something amusing over the phone?”

Percy's eyes flew up in shock.

“Gwaine,” he said breathlessly. He looked from the grinning man leaning on his apartment door to his phone. He laughed again and ended the call. “What are you doing here? Not that, uh,” his fingers were clumsy while tucking his phone away, “not that I'm not happy to see you. I am.” Gwaine just continued to smile while Percy babbled. “Happy to see you. I mean. Always am.”

Gwaine pulled his left hand from behind his back. The sweet spicy smell of curry wafted towards Percy.

“I brought Kumari to celebrate.”

Percy's face lit up, his freckles practically sparkling.

“Oh, you did? You're amazing!” He cleared his throat, though his smile would probably stay on his face for the next year. “That's so—You didn't have to—That's so nice of—” 

Amidst his excitement at food after the longest week of his life, Percy dropped his keys, both bending to get them. Gwaine's fingers brushed over the top of Percy's hand. The illustrator stood up and smiled down at Gwaine.

“Let's go inside, yeah?”

They did indeed go inside. Percy gathered plates while Gwaine unpacked the food on his coffee table. They turned on the Orioles game and kicked back, gorging on Indian food and beer.

“This was incredible,” Percy groaned deliriously, his hands cupping his distended belly. He rolled the back of his head on the sofa and found Gwaine to be smiling softly at him. He bit his bottom lip and smiled, shaking his head. “You're too good to me.”

“Bah, no such thing,” Gwaine murmured, resting his head on his hand. He reached out, his long fingers brushing the center of Percy's chest. Percy followed the motion with his eyes, though he didn't move away. “Everything about you is how I wanna be.”

Percy's eyebrows rose, Gwaine's fingers stroking the side of his neck.

“First you bring me Indian food and beer. Then we watch the O's win. And now you're quoting Muse to me?” He fluttered his eyelashes and jokingly fanned himself. His large hand looked so silly flopping in the air, Gwaine grinning and scooting closer on the sofa. “Are you trying to get laid tonight?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Gwaine laughed, leaning in. “Fuck, your voice is sexy.” His lips brushed against Percy's smooth cheek. He blinked, readjusted his aim, and kissed his neck, Percy's jawline nudging his nose. Gwaine pulled back. “Perce--”

“Gwaine, we--”

Gwaine held onto both of Percy's cheeks, their eyes boring into each other.

“What is it?”

Percy's throat bobbed to swallow, his face turning towards the television. Late night ESPN lit his angular face.

“I just...”

Gwaine removed his hands from Percy's cheeks.

“Hey, Perce, I didn't do all this tonight just to get into your pants,” he hurried to said. Percy looked at him, his expression calm but unreadable. Gwaine jutted his head backwards, his hair flipping off his forehead. “I swear. I just...I wanted to spoil you.” He smoothed his hand over Percy's chest, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. Quieter, he added, “I always want to spoil you. You blush when I spoil you,” Percy did indeed blush at that comment, “and I love when you blush.”

Percy lifted his butt off the sofa to tuck his foot under his thigh. He turned to Gwaine, the brunet mirroring his position.

“So, you like me?” he asked.

Gwaine snorted through his nose, his hand flying to cover his mouth and stifle a bark of laughter.

“Are you kidding me? I've wanted you from the minute I saw you!”

“Okay, but do you like me?”

“Queeny, of course I do,” Gwaine said, calming down a bit. He ran his hands through his hair, Percy able to smell his sweat as it mingled with his soapy detergent. Gwaine looked serious, which was partially terrifying and partially endearing. “I like you. I...I've been telling you that for months, but you don't seem to believe me.”

Percy shied away from Gwaine's touch, fingertips barely brushing his cheekbone.

“I like you, too,” he whispered, able to tell what face Gwaine was making without looking at him. His joyous squeak gave it away. “But...”

“But what?”

“But I don't want to hold you back.”

Gwaine gasped, “What?” He bounced closer on the sofa, their bent knees touching. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I'm...” 

Percy's stress was evident, his normally boyish face looking far too weathered and heavy for the occasion. Gwaine laid a reassuring hand on his muscular shoulder, squeezing in a friendly way.

“Hey, you can talk to me,” he whispered, squeezing again. “I'm your friend, first and foremost.”

“I know,” Percy sighed. He fell onto his back, his shirt riding up his stomach. Gwaine smiled at the sight; his navel was so petite when compared to the acres of rippling muscle covering his torso. “I just...I'm new to school. I'm a year behind you, at least, because I transferred. I'm...I've never—With a guy...”

“I know,” Gwaine said, rubbing his bare stomach. “You told me already. And you know I don't care at all.” Percy's skin vibrated under his touch, the illustrator arching his lower back. Gwaine pulled his hand back. “Sorry, is that weird?”

“No, it...” Percy removed his hands from his face, his wrists resting beside his head on a throw pillow. He smiled at Gwaine. “It felt really nice.”

Gwaine quirked an eyebrow, his hand slowly sliding back to Percy's stomach. 

“So...”

“So,” Percy continued, “I don't want to hold you back. I wish I was one of your summer flings, but I'm not.”

Gwaine's face crumpled in confusion.

“Why would you ever say that? Don't you see how much you mean to me?”

Percy sat up on his elbows. His abs crinkled under Gwaine's hand, which was not helping in the whole concentration area.

“What did you refer to your relationship status as when you came back in August?”

Gwaine's eyes searched the ceiling. It was hard to remember everything he said; he tended to chatter away. Percy somehow managed to remember everything he said, which was rare. A lightbulb popped on.

“That I was casually slutty?”

Percy's stomach jumped under his hand while he laughed.

“Exactly. There's nothing wrong with doing that, I just know myself. I'm not built that way.”

Gwaine was confused, but still smiling. It was impossible not to smile when Percy laughed. He looked like a little boy at the zoo or something.

“So?”

“So,” Percy laid back down, “why would you want to bother with someone like me? I'm boring--”

“Are not!”

“And then you wouldn't get to be casually slutty anymore.”

“I want to be casually slutty with you and only you,” Gwaine blurted out, fingers clenching on Percy's vibrating belly. “I just want to be slutty with you.” He could barely get the words out without laughing. “It doesn't even have to be casual. I can be seriously slutty with you.”

They both found themselves to be in hysterics again, Percy trying to repeat what Gwaine just said while Gwaine continued to giggle, tears prickling their eyes. Gwaine pushed Percy's knees apart, settling between his legs. Their laughter quieted some, though little giggles would still escape. He ran his hands up his chest, the heels of his hands cupping Percy's jawline. Percy wrapped his arms around Gwaine's waist, his inner thighs hugging his body.

While still giggling, Gwaine said, “I'm going to kiss you now, alright?”

“Yes, please,” Percy replied, his lips gently taken over by Gwaine's smiled kisses.

 

**Wednesday September 14**

Merlin packed his painting supplies in his large messenger bag. He had already dropped a couple of canvases at the school studio space in anticipation of getting some painting done. His first private lesson had been fantastic; he wanted to spring off of that energy. 

He looped his bag over his shoulder and pocketed his keys. He pressed one knee on the mattress and leaned down. He ran his fingers through Elliot's sleep mussed hair.

“I'll see you tonight,” he whispered, kissing his cheek softly. 

Elliot pawed at his face and turned onto his stomach, muttering something about jetlag. Merlin snorted and kissed his neck. Jetlag time had long passed. Elliot's love of the local bar scene seemed a more likely explanation. He pulled the blankets up to his sleeping boyfriend's shoulders.

“My Merly,” Elliot sighed.

 

**Thursday September 23**

“Hey, Arthur?”

Arthur looked up from a stack of papers. He raised his eyebrows at Gwaine.

“Yeah?”

“What's this?”

Gwaine held up a slip of yellow paper.

“Mailroom delivery,” Arthur said, quirking his head to the left. Gwaine looked a bit befuddled as he read over the slip again. “Uh, you have a delivery. In the mailroom.”

“I do?”

Arthur chuckled softly and tucked his graded assignment under his arm.

“Yes, you do. That's what the slip says, doesn't it?”

“I don't think I've ever gotten a delivery here,” Gwaine said, amazed eyes still staring at the paper. “What do I do?”

For most people, Arthur would have sarcastically walked them through the process of retrieving mail. But this was Gwaine. Being mean to Gwaine would be like being mean to a dachshund. A longhaired dachshund, mind you.

“C'mon, I've got to wait on line for a delivery too.” Arthur held up a matching slip. “We can wait together.”

Gwaine grinned widely.

“Cool!”

Gwaine walked up to Arthur and planted behind him in the slow-moving line. He smiled at the student who stood on the line behind him, as if they were sharing a life milestone together.

“What's your delivery?” he asked, practically bouncing in the balls of his feet. “I hope mine is food or something.”

“I ordered shoes off of Amazon,” Arthur replied, amused. He lowered his voice to add, “I get free shipping.”

“Oh, shit, are you on that super saver plan?”

“Yeah, and my dad gives me Amazon gift cards for pretty much every life event, so it worked out.”

“Awesome! I love a good deal.”

Arthur chuckled and stepped up to the window. He handed the woman inside his slip of paper. Sure enough, she gave him a shoebox marked with the standard Amazon smile logo. He stepped aside to let Gwaine hand his slip in. 

Gwaine watched the elderly woman slowly make her way to a collection of cubbies, her bespectacled eyes going from Gwaine's slip to its matching cubby. She turned toward him with a bored expression, his delivery clutched in her bony hand.

“Aw, man, a letter?” Gwaine whined, signing underneath Arthur's signature on the woman's clipboard. “How boring is that!?”

“Maybe it's got money in it.”

Arthur's comment brought a smile back to Gwaine's face. He ripped into the envelope. A smaller frilly white and pink envelope with flowers attached fell into Gwaine's hands. He opened it, flowers fluttering to the floor, and read over the card inside.

“Aw, man, it's just my sister's wedding invitation,” he said rolling his eyes. He smirked at Arthur and shook the empty delivery envelope upside down. “No Amazon shoes for me.” 

“Maybe next time,” Arthur said, Gwaine giggling in the most silly way. 

There was a silence, Gwaine and Arthur just staring at each other. This was the point when one of their closer friends would usually intervene to keep the conversation going. But they were just loitering beside the mailroom line. This was not an event that needed to continue.

The potter cleared his throat and took a step back. “Alright, I guess I'll see you--”

Gwaine interrupted with a snap of his fingers and an enthusiastic, “Hey, man! It's not one yet!”

Arthur waited for his next thought, holding his Amazon box to his chest. Gwaine's hair swished side to side, until it came to a stop. There was another short pause with just them smiling at each other. 

“Okay?” Arthur said slowly.

“The lunch buffet at Kumari is buy one get one free until one!” Gwaine's voice rose with each sentence, his eyes sparkling more with excitement. “We can go together and eat so much Indian we'll want to barf!” Both of his hands waved in the air. “Because it's buy one get one free!”

Arthur found himself laughing aloud, trying to get out, “Wow, you really love a deal,” between peals of laughter. 

Gwaine gripped his arm and pulled Arthur towards the exit, walking them both out of the school and out of the realm of being acquaintances. A lunch buffet with Gwaine was the fast track for friendship.

“C'mon, we can drop your shoes at your place. It's on the way. Maybe Lance wants to come! But only if he brings someone to get a deal of his own.” Gwaine winked at Arthur, who started laughing again. “I'm calling dibs on you for half price.”

 

**Monday October 5**

“This is simply stunning.”

“Agreed.”

“Arthur, your work is just...Flawless.”

The potter smiled into his palm, staring at his offering for the first junior class exhibit. More students offered their praise, even Gaius was impressed. 

“Your summer in Peru has done you well,” Gaius said. He walked in a slow circle around the collection of plates, which Arthur had propped up at various angles. “Smooth. Well balanced. Incredibly...Earthy.” His normally smooth cheeks crinkled. “But you could probably sell these for quite a sum of money.” He winked at Arthur. “Well done, Pendragon.”

Arthur's eyes curved with his hidden smile. He couldn't help his smile. He just felt so good that he had to do something, and if that meant smiling like an idiot, he would smile like an idiot.

The class moved on to the next piece, an offering from someone in the fashion department. Merlin remained standing in front of Arthur's plates. He just stared at them, one arm wrapped around his ribs. His other hand pressed his fingers to his bottom lip, his eyes glued to the collection.

He didn't even hear his classmates begin to critique his painting. He just had to keep looking at Arthur's plates. Arthur's fucking incredible plates. 

“God, he's brilliant,” he whispered with barely any sound, his eyes still wide with awe.

“What was that?”

Merlin's mouth snapped shut. He looked over his shoulder at Gwaine.

“Nothing,” Merlin said, rubbing his fingers over his chin. He turned away from Arthur's collection. “Nothing at all.” 

 

**Wednesday October 14**

“Arthur, go home.”

Arthur wiped sweat from his face with the bottom of his grey shirt. He offered Morgana a tired smile.

“No, it's fine.” He heaved up another plank of wood, holding it up to his shoulders with his elbows bent. “I'll finish this unit up and then I'll go.”

Morgana sauntered towards him, her arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing a white full body jumpsuit stained with paint. Her shoe choice, however, was still a black stiletto pump. Just because one was painting their business doesn't mean they have to neglect their fashion choices.

“Dear brother, you've already worked twice as long as the actual construction workers today.” She ruffled his hair. “Oh, ick.” She pulled her hand out, swiping it in the air. “Sweaty Arthur.”

“Not true,” he grunted, poising his drill. “Fuck, the top shelf is such a bitch,” he muttered to himself, calves aching while he stood on the balls of his feet for leverage. He looked at Morgana's amused, but sleepy, face. “It's not true!” He laughed and lowered himself, the shelf now attached to the wall. “I had class this afternoon.”

She grabbed the drill before he could tighten his grip. She unplugged it and dropped it into a nearby toolbox. He sighed and bent down.

“Go home, take a shower, and go to sleep,” she said, gripping his shoulders. She pulled him upright. “I can't tell you how happy I am for you to be here.” She smiled and cupped his cheeks. “You've been so helpful. But you stink to high heaven. And you have class tomorrow.”

“Do I stink?”

Morgana smiled at him in a way that only a sibling could.

“I can smell your feet, and you're still wearing shoes. You stink.”

He thought for a moment then shrugged.

“Alright, alright, I'll go shower.” He started to walk towards his backpack. He turned back to her. “Are you sure you don't want me to finish putting the table together?”

“Get out of here,” she laughed, flicking her hands at him. “Shoo! Go shower and do something fun and relaxing.”

Arthur laughed as she hussled him out of her spa. He walked down the block to Donna's and got a large green tea to go from a new waiter who was definitely checking him out. Who knew that being filthy and sweaty would attract a cute barista? 

He walked home the long way, inhaling the scent of fireplaces that filled the air. October in Baltimore was usually a little bit warmer. For whatever reason, junior year had brought lots of cold weather. He was sad to retire his tank tops so early in the fall.

He got to his apartment and saw that it was empty. Lance left a note saying he'd be at Gwen's late. 

“So in love,” Arthur whispered, smiling to himself. He shrugged his peacoat off and hung it on the coatrack near the front door, toeing his work boots off. His nose wrinkled. Morgana was right about the feet thing, which led him to realize she was definitely right about he shower thing.

He sipped his tea with one hand and carried his boots with another. He placed them gently in the back of his closet. No need to stink out Lance and whoever stops by their apartment in the next day or so.

He carried his half filled tea into the bathroom. His shirt was peeled over his head and mussed his sweaty hair in the process. The rest of his clothing hit the floor.

A long, hot shower was definitely in order. He deserved it, putting up with the ridiculous shelves Morgana insisted needed to be in each Spagana location. They were gorgeous to look at, but complicated as fuck to install. As he soaped up his chest he groaned, even that small motion causing his arms to ache. Yoga would be interesting in the morning. 

He emerged from the shower feeling refreshed and clean. There was no sound coming from the living room or Lance's room; he still had the place to himself. 

Once back in his room he slipped on a pair of black boxerbriefs and sat on the edge of his bed. He thought back to the previous year, and even back to freshman year. How often did he get to just spend time alone? Girlfriends and fuckbuddies were always around, always hanging off of him. 

Since the summer, he'd gotten to spend more time on his own. Whether he was doing art or or studying or just spending a quiet moment in his room, he grew to crave it. It was calming. There was no pressure. He could just think and relax, or plan and focus. It didn't matter. He could do what he wanted, because he was the only person to answer to.

At first, he was concerned. What if liking alone time was a bad thing? What if his anxiety was blooming into something more serious and this was his brain's way of justifying it? His therapist, Dr. Tristan, assured him that everything was fine. That it was a good thing that he was becoming so comfortable with himself that he didn't mind being on his own.

That thought only made him happier than he already was. Even thinking of that session now made Arthur smile as he settled on his wooden desk chair. He pulled the chair to the right, nudging himself closer to the corner. He ran his fingers over the dark cherry wood of his cello, fingers brushing the cool strings.

One good thing about their ridiculous luxury building was that the walls were thick. They muffled most sound. He had no idea who his neighbors were, if he even had any. And with Lance out of the house he didn't even need to use a mute. 

His thighs spread, his bare feet getting into position on the floor. He rested the cello between his legs and poisted his bow. His eyes fell shut at the first note. Muscle memory kicked in, his fingers flying over the frets. 

An hour later, as he crawled into bed sleepy and satisfied, he thumbed a text to Morgana.

**:: you were right. playing brahms in my underwear was def fun and relaxing ::**

His phone vibrated with an immediate response of:

**:: ugh, is that a double entendre for something? i don't want to know. you are such a ~renaissance man~ ;) gnite bro and thx for everything!! ::**

 

**Junior year, Tuesday October 20**

Merlin stepped back from his canvas and tilted his head. He bit his bottom lip and bent over, grabbing his tube of mustard yellow paint. The front door opened the shut. He smiled as he squirted paint onto his palate.

“Hey,” he called.

“Hello there.”

He looked over his shoulder, smile growing. Elliot wiggled his fingers in a wave from the doorway. The Brit looked around Mordred's bedroom, surprise lighting his face.

“What have we here?”

Merlin carefully placed his supplies on a drop cloth and stood to his full height. He tiptoed barefoot to the door.

“Well, I emailed Mordred and asked when he'd be back, to which he replied that he had no idea.” Both laughed, Elliot reaching towards Merlin's face. He swiped his thumb over his cheekbone, catching a drip of melon hued paint. “So I asked if we could temporarily convert his bedroom into a studio. You know, for us to paint and for Gwen to practice if she wants--”

Elliot's smile faded.

“Practice?”

Merlin laughed, “Yeah! She plays beautifully. I love listening to her practice.”

“Doesn't the Bilt have enough practice rooms?”

“Yeah, they do, but...” Merlin laughed, a bit shocked at Elliot's closed off expression. “Uh,” he itched his hair, “I just thought it would be nice. So she can have a place to go if she wants a change of scenery.”

“I guess.”

Merlin cupped his cheeks and pressed their lips together.

“El, I swear, she'll barely be here. I just wanted to offer.” He kissed him again, smiling against his lips. “And maybe,” he murmured before another quick kiss, “you'll feel more inspired to paint in here? You haven't done any work since Paris.”

Elliot stiffened in his embrace.

“Jesus, Merlin, you know I'm feeling blocked,” he snapped, stepping back. Merlin's face fell. “I've been really stressed lately and not all of us are constantly inspired.”

Merlin hurried to say, “I didn't mean it like that, I swear, I was just trying to be helpful.”

“I know.”

Elliot sighed and held his hand out. He smiled and pulled Merlin to him.

“C'mere, my Merly.” Merlin's feet remained planted to the floor. Elliot stepped forward and nuzzled his neck. He smiled when he heard Merlin's little sigh and kissed him there, nibbling the slight stubble along her jawline. “I'm sorry for being cranky.”

Merlin smiled. He could feel the tension leaving his body with the first nibble 

“It's okay,” he said softly. His arms wrapped around Elliot's back, his hands linking behind his neck. “I know you're stressed.” His body involuntarily leaned closer, Elliot's fingers kneading his ass through his jeans. He grinned and ground their hips together. “Did you have a good job interview?”

“Psh, they were a bunch of prats,” Elliot scoffed, leading Merlin towards the bed. “I walked out in the middle of it.”

“You walked--No, no,” Merlin laughed and squirmed out of Elliot's embrace, “not in here!”

“Aww, c'mon, Merlin.” His hand slid from Merlin's ass to his crotch, palming him firmly. “He said we can use it.”

Merlin pecked Elliot's lips and smirked before darting around him. Elliot was staring at his painting, his eyes narrowed.

“We can fuck in our bed,” he called as he ran from the room. “Or in the living room. Whatever works for you.” His voice floated into the new studio, peppered with giggles and the sound of clothing being pulled from his body. “I'll be naked in thirty seconds.” Elliot's eyebrows rose, his feet backing him out of the room. “You can help me find the bits of paint I missed—Oh!” Merlin's giggle was muffled by a hard kiss. “Hello there!”

 

**Thursday October 22**

Arthur rolled up his yoga mat, breathing in slowly through his nose. He stood up and slipped his feet into flip flops. He was going to have chilly toes for the walk home, but who wanted to deal with socks and shoes after 90 minutes of hot yoga?

“Arthur?”

He turned from the studio door. He smiled at his instructor for the day, a slender brunet named Gale, who also was one of the managers.

“Yes?”

Gale placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder, smiling kindly.

“Can we talk in my office for a moment?”

Arthur paled, and he fumbled with his water bottle. He looked around the empty studio.

“Is there a problem?”

“God, no,” Gale said, rubbing his shoulder and laughing. Arthur liked his laugh. It was soft and rolling, and matched his flexible exterior. “I wanted to talk to you about possibly picking up some hours.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“Hours?”

Gale walked Arthur towards the management offices, his bare feet shuffling on the wood floor.

“We do a sort of internship here. Students pick up hours working the desk in exchange for training to become certified.”

Arthur's other eyebrow joined the party. He hitched his mat strap over his shoulder.

“Certified? What, me?” He touched the center of his sweaty chest, laughing in shock. “To teach yoga?”

“Sure!”

“But...I'm a potter. A sculptor.”

Gale snorted, “And I'm a classically trained violinist.” He stopped laughing. “It would be lovely to do nothing but art, but eventually you're going to have to find something else to make you money.” Arthur nodded along as he spoke, sitting in the chair across from his desk. “Yoga is portable. You can teach it anywhere. You can even teach privately in the home.”

“But why me?”

“You have excellent form.”

There was a short silence as Gale sat at his desk. Arthur nibbled his bottom lip.

“Was that a come on?”

Gale laughed again, gathering a small stack of papers.

“A little,” he admitted, eyes flicking up at the blond. “But just a little.” He held his pointer finger and thumb up, just about an inch between them. “In truth, you're very committed. Very naturally athletic.”

Arthur nearly laughed. Tell that to his father, who had never looked more disappointed than when Arthur announced he quit the football team because he was afraid of breaking his wrists, and he had an orchestra concert coming up that he couldn't wait to play in.

A packet slid across the desk and into Arthur's sightline.

“Think about it,” Gale said.

Arthur noted Gale's cell number scrawled on the top right corner. He shifted in his seat.

“Look, I love taking your classes,” Arthur said carefully. “I love practicing here.” He and Gale caught eyes. “But I'm not looking for a relationship now.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?”

Arthur smiled at his lap, suddenly feeling shy. He ran his hand through his sweaty hair.

“I mean, I'm not looking for anything.” He smiled up at Gale through his wet fringe. “I'm kind of taking a break from all that. Alright?”

Gale just smiled and shrugged, holding his palms towards Arthur.

“Fair enough.” 

 

**Friday October 31 – Halloween!**

It seemed only appropriate that the first year most of their class could legally drink they infiltrated a bar holding a costume party. It wasn't a new location for most; the Boat Club had always been liberal with checking ID. 

The Boat was a bit of an endearing dive with year round christmas lights. There were barrels of peanuts around the room, the shells thrown right on the wooden floors. Battered tables and chairs were crowded around the dining room area with a small stage pressed against the back wall. 

The rowdy costumed crowd grew even louder and wilder once karaoke started. The small stage was packed with groups of girls shrieking through Spice Girls, drunk guys slurring through the greatest hits of Guns 'n Roses and Billy Joel. 

Merlin held four Coronas in his hands and lifted his arms above his head. He made his way through the crowd to his table. Elliot whistled through his fingers when he saw Merlin approaching.

“Nice tail!” he shouted, patting Merlin's ass.

Laughter broke out around their table, Merlin smiling and shaking his hips before sitting down. He had dressed as a devil, wearing tight red jeans, a black tee, and a shiny red tail with a pointed tip. He had matching horns on his red hair, of course. What was a devil without his horns? 

Elliot had dressed as an angel, which consisted of wearing all white and a gold halo he bought at the liquor store. He wasn't one for preparation. Gwen had doused both of them in silver glitter from her fairy costume, and their skin was shimmering under the cheap disco lights.

“Fuck, this song is so long,” Gwen shouted in Merlin's ear, one of her classmates warbling through Piano Man. For a music major, he was kind of tone deaf. She sucked a long drink from her bottle. “Are you going to sing?”

“Noooo, no, no, no,” Merlin laughed, shaking his head. He sipped his beer. “I hate karaoke.”

“C'mon, Merlin!” Lance teased, ruffling his wild red hair. “You can do it!”

“Not everyone has a crooning tenor like you,” Merlin giggled as his hair was messed beyond repair.

“You're being silly, Merl,” Elliot said, sliding his arm around Merlin's shoulders. “You have a lovely voice!”

That made Merlin laugh and shake his head even more.

“Are you nuts!? I'm a horrible singer!”

Elliot smiled fondly and held onto Merlin by his horns. He whispered, “You sounded beautiful in the shower this morning,” against his lips, Merlin smiling wide. Elliot pressed a soft kiss to his bottom lip. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

The howling on stage fell away, as did the obnoxious overhead colorful lights and the jostling of people around them. They couldn't stop kissing each other, hot sucks and gentle swipes of tongue giving both a heady buzz. While they kissed the night away, Morgana and Arthur entered the bar and joined up with the MIA group, along with Percy and Gwaine. 

“Ooh, they're making out,” Morgana whispered excitedly to Arthur, who just rolled his eyes and went to the bar.

Merlin usually found PDA to be kind of strange. He enjoyed intimacy in a private setting. He knew how uncomfortable it was to be lonely and watching people make out, or to just be weirded out by watching an exchange of spit between friends. But he'd had four beers and a shot of tequila already, and Elliot was being so sweet and kissy. He couldn't help himself for just a night.

“Halloween gets you romantic, hmm?”

Elliot giggled and squeezed the back of Merlin's neck.

“I just...” He bit his bottom lip and smiled at the ground, “I...” he brought his soft eyes to Merlin's smiling face, tenderly thumbing over the painter's earlobes. “I love you so much, Merly.”

Merlin's lips opened to let out the tiniest gasp he'd ever made, his breath stolen from his body. Elliot nudged his nose against Merlin's neck and hugged him, whispering, “You're the first person I've ever loved like this.” He kissed his neck, right underneath his ear. “I'm sorry if it's too fast.”

“N-No,” Merlin said, lacing his fingers in Elliot's fair hair. “It's not. Too fast, I mean.” He groaned softly and tilted his head to the left, Elliot's lips sucking soft kisses where his neck met shoulder. “I...” He giggled and brought his lips to Elliot's ear. “I love you, too.”

Elliot cradled the back of Merlin's head and kissed his way to his lips, both smiling and kissing until their friends started to whistle.

“What a beautiful moment!!” Gwaine crowed, applauding in front of their joined faces. He swiped Merlin's beer. “I think I've got a tear in my eye!”

Merlin and Elliot burst out laughing, their friends all teasing them while giving them gentle noogies and mussing their costumes. 

“We deserve this,” Merlin giggled, Gwaine tickling his sides to distract him. He needed another swig of beer. Merlin stole a sip from Elliot's beer. “We're being pretty obnoxious.”

The night went on, classmates from MIA and Bilt mixing as the alcohol flowed. Gwaine performed Bruce Springsteen's Born in the USA with frightening accuracy. It made total sense, as he was dressed as The Boss, complete with tight jeans, tank top, facial hair, and bandana.

The DJ announced, “Where's Elliot?” from the stage.

“Me!” Elliot's hand shot up in the air. He hopped up. “I'm Elliot!”

“Oh, god, I hate this,” Merlin groaned into Elliot's hip, smiling despite his statement. Elliot gripped his cheeks, slapping a wet kiss on his lips. Merlin giggled. “Are you really going to sing?”

Elliot adjusted his halo.

“Of course I am!”

Gwaine murmured to Merlin, “Elliot's a fucking riot,” and squeezed his shoulder. 

“He is,” Merlin sighed happily, Elliot winking over his shoulder as he neared the stage. 

Elliot jumped up on the stage, pint glass clutched in his hand. He swayed and took hold of the mic stand.

“Merly, my love,” he held his glass up, “this is for you.”

Merlin just laughed and sunk down into his seat, his hands over his face. A rhythm guitar started to punch through the speakers. Elliot cleared his throat.

“When I wake up, yeah I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you,” Elliot sang, pointing at Merlin from the stage. His accent was thickened with drink, which made the song words sound even funnier. Merlin couldn't stop giggling, his face aching from smiling like a lovestruck idiot for such a prolonged period of time. “And when I go out, yeah I know i'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you.”

“I love this song!” Gwaine laughed. He cupped his hands around his lips. “Yeah, El! Sing for your man!”

“This is so fucking cute,” Gwen screamed in Merlin's ear just as the chorus to The Proclaimer's I Would Walk 500 Miles kicked in.

Merlin just watched his boyfriend dance and wiggle along to the beat. He would hold his glass up at certain parts and hold the mic towards the cheering crowd, but stared at Merlin the entire time. 

Later, they would tumble into bed together, stinking of beer and laughing as if the world was ending. Merlin didn't even mind when Elliot threw up in bed at four in the morning.

 

**Monday November 3**

“Ugh, it's sick to have an exhibit so close to Halloween. Some of us are still hungover.”

Arthur snickered softly and patted Gwaine's back. He gave him a quick shoulder squeeze. Gwaine groaned and shivered.

“Ooh, keep doing that, man.” He grinned over his shoulder while Arthur kneaded his neck. “Magic hands.” He face forward, another wild shiver wracking his body. “Knead me like one of your pots, Arty.”

Arthur's laughter rang loud through the studio. Merlin ran into the exhibit just as the clock struck noon. He bumped into Lance, who steadied him and laughed.

“What's the rush?”

Lance took in Merlin's swollen lips, his flushed face, and his teeth scraped neck. He smirked knowingly.

“Ah, I see.” He leaned in and whispered, “Elliot time?”

“He reset the time on my alarm,” Merlin rasped, catching his breath. He wiped his hand over his forehead. “I can't believe he'd do that. What if I missed class?”

“Hey, hey,” Lance said softly. “You're allowed to miss classes. You're human. And you're not in this exhibit, yeah? So you can just walk around and relax.”

Professor Gaius clapped his hands together in the middle of the room, the junior class gathering around. Merlin and Lance stood near a particularly prickly looking sculpture, with green spikes sticking out from all sides of an orange globe.

“It's not the missing class thing,” Merlin whispered to Lance. “It's...I just think that's weird.” He crossed his arms over his chest and studied an oil painting of flowers. Bland, basic, and unimaginative. “To reset my alarm. It's not like it's the weekend, you know? I have things I have to do.”

Lance shrugged but nodded. The class started to offer critiques to the spiked bulb. The running criticism was the it looked like a life sized Everlasting Gobstopper from Willy Wonka. 

“He wants to spend time with you.”

“But I'm in school,” Merlin said, the class moving on towards Arthur's offering. 

It was a sculpture of a phoenix just about two feet high, but was colored in such a way that it looked like it was made from pure sapphire. Merlin frowned. Yet again it was the most gorgeous piece in the entire room. 

“I have a job,” he continued quietly. “I was late to a shift the other day for the first time. I don't do that!”

“Woah, woah, Merlin,” Lance soothed, holding both of his shoulders. The painter was frowning at the floor. “I think...”

Merlin looked up. “What?”

“I mean, he doesn't have a job. He's not in school.” Lance shrugged, looking terribly guilty for someone who had nothing to be guilty of. Merlin was staring at an offering from the graphic arts department, unable to look Lance in the eye. Lance frowned. “You're kind of it for him in Baltimore. But he needs to give you space and understand that you have commitments.”

Merlin's bottom lip was being worried between his teeth, his face drained. The shock of going from having a dick in your ass to scrambling to get dressed to biking at the speed of light to school to seeing Professor Gaius while worrying if you had lube on your shirt was exhausting.

Gwaine stepped up to them and smacked a loud kiss against Merlin's cheek.

“Why so blue, Magic?” He looked at the top of Merlin's head. “Or red, rather.” 

Merlin smiled tightly at him and shook his head. He could see Arthur on the outskirts of his sightline, chatting with Sophia and Elena. The last thing he needed was Arthur's input on his relationship.

“Nothing. I'm fine.” He forced a smile. “Just a little tired.”

“Aw,” Gwaine hugged him sideways. “El wearing you out?”

Merlin flushed and laughed softly, mumbling, “Sort of.”

Gwaine walked with Merlin from piece to piece, Lance flanking Merlin on his other side. A part of Merlin was embarrassed that his friends felt the need to swaddle him at the first sign of sadness, but another part was touched that they cared. 

“You should just take some time for yourself,” Gwaine suggested, sounding far too wise. “You're free after this, yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

Lance jumped in to suggest, “So go get a cup of coffee and just sit around.”

When the exhibit ended, Merlin took their advice and headed to Donna's. He sat in the bar seat closest to the wall. His stomach rumbled upon entering the cafe, so a vegetable panini was in order. He took out some reading he had to do and actually felt himself relaxing. He smiled as he turned a page. He'd have to text Gwaine and Lance to say thanks later.

His phone vibrated on the granite countertop. He went to silence it but smiled when he saw who was calling.

“Hey!” he laughed into the phone. “Mama!”

His mother's warm chuckle made him lean against the wall, even more tension leaving his body.

“Hello, my son. What's new?”

They chatted about this and that; his art, her job, their menu plans for Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving brought up Elliot, who would be accompanying Merlin to Portland for the holiday weekend.

“What does he do?”

Merlin laughed and popped a bit of sweet potato in his mouth, pushing the prongs of his fork against his bottom lip.

“What do you mean?”

“What does he do all day,” his mother clarified. She quietly murmured, “It sounds like a whole lot of nothing.”

“He...He's an artist, ma. He does...” Merlin massaged the bridge of his nose. Lying to his mother was among his worst talents. “He paints and stuff.”

“But what about a job?”

He could hear that she smelled his bullshit a mile away. Merlin braced himself, his shoes bending while he pressed his toes on the metal bar along the bottom of his barstool.

“He hasn't found one yet.”

Hunith gasped.

“What do you mean? He hasn't gotten a job yet?”

Merlin laughed, though there was little of the normal joy in his giggle.

“He's been busy,” he said, twirling his cup on its saucer. “He hasn't had time to apply.”

Hunith scoffed so loud the phone vibrated against Merlin's cheek.

“Are you kidding me? Merlin, you've had a job and a full class load the entire time you've been in Baltimore. You're defending him?”

“Well, uh,” Merlin's fingers fumbling to grab something, anything, “he'd have to get a work visa.” He settled on a spoon, and stirred it into his cooling coffee. “Which is really complicated.”

“And has he applied for it yet?”

Merlin bit his bottom lip, his mother laughing softly.

“Oh, Merlin,” she murmured. There was no anger in her tone, and the hint of disappointment wasn't directed at her son. “Has Elliot even contributed financially to your bills? To rent? Food?”

“He cooks all the time.”

“And who goes grocery shopping? And pays for said groceries?”

Once again, Merlin bit his lip. Gwen stopped by for a refill, mouthing, “You okay?” The painter nodded and smiled, mouthing, “Mom,” and pointed his spoon at the phone. Hunith sighed again. Merlin whispered, “Ma, what am I supposed to do? I can't force him.”

“Are you happy with things the way they are?”

“Yes,” he said, though it came out in a strange, slow tone. Hunith grunted. “I mean, it's been fine up until recently.” He sipped his coffee, letting the hot liquid mull over the back of his tongue. He swallowed. “I dunno, mom. I love him, but him not working is kind of driving me nuts.”

“Ah ha!”

Merlin laughed at that, burying his face in his hands.

“There is my son,” Hunith said, still chuckling. “I was wondering when you'd come back to earth from your sex fueled stupor.”

Merlin's eyes widened, his jaw against his chest.

“Mom, oh my God!” he exclaimed, drawing quite a few stares from the nearby staff. Merlin lowered his voice, hunching in his seat and cradling the phone to his face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

Hunith snickered. “It's not the summer anymore, sweetheart. Elliot is a cutiepie, but he probably should have stayed in England.”

“Why didn't you say any of this to me months ago?”

He could practically hear her shrug and lift her mug of tea to her lips through the phone.

“You like him and he makes you happy, which is good. I didn't want to interfere.” She hummed knowingly. “But you're the hardest worker I know--”

“Mom,” he laughed, face flaming bright red. “Please. You're--”

“Correct,” she finished for him. “And I know you, Merlin. You work. At art, at Mikado, at everything. Surely it annoys you that he just sits around all day? I would find that incredibly boring in a partner.”

Merlin sighed and looked down to his coffee. It had gone cold.

When he returned home to his apartment, he saw Elliot was already asleep. Or maybe he hadn't woken up? Either way, he crawled into bed next to him. Elliot stirred, his arms stretching over his head. 

“Hey,” he whispered, kissing his right nipple. “El?”

Elliot slapped his lips together and turned his face away.

Merlin rolled onto Elliot's chest. He took a deep breath in. His nose was filled with the scent of stale sweat and dried beer. He wrinkled his nose and rubbed his hand over Elliot's flat stomach.

“You up?” he said softly, kissing Elliot's shoulder. 

Elliot groaned but lifted his hand to curl over Merlin's shoulder, nodding. 

“What?” he grunted.

Merlin kissed his nipple again, rubbing the soft blond hair at the bottom of his belly.

“Just wanted to talk to you about a couple of things.”

“So talk.”

Merlin pinched his happy trail, Elliot whining and pawing at his hand.

“Merly, that hurts,” he groaned, flipping onto his stomach. Merlin wrapped his hand around his hip and pulled him to lay his back. Elliot sighed and forced his eyes open. “What?” He saw Merlin's annoyed wrinkle in his forehead and sat up a bit, smiling as much as his sleep stiff face would allow. “What's up, Merl?”

“Well, we have to talk about the next few of weeks before Thanksgiving.”

“What about?”

“Well, I have midterms coming up.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“So I'll have a lot of studying to do.”

“Even grosser,” Elliot said, pouting. 

“And my show.”

“Hm. That'll be...nice.”

“But your birthday is soon,” Merlin said softly, fingers circling Elliot's navel. Elliot's pout relaxed into a smile. He rested his hand behind his head, crossing his ankles. “So I wanted to do a little dinner party thing for you.”

“Aw, Merl,” Elliot said, reaching for Merlin's face. “I love you.”

He pressed a messy kiss to his lips, Merlin laughing and pulling away. Elliot rolled on top of him and in the process pushed the sheet down his bare ass. Merlin laughed and gave him a squeeze. 

“And then there's going back to Portland for the holiday,” Merlin said, Elliot kissing down his neck. His eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting back. Elliot murmured nonsense and sucked on his pulse point. “And then...Have you thought about getting a job sometime soon?”

The kisses to his neck stopped abruptly.

“Fuck, Merlin.” Elliot pulled his face up and revealed a scowl. “I thought we were having fun! Do you have to be such a fucking buzzkill?”

Merlin clutched the blanket to his chest. Elliot's spit was drying cold on his neck. He watched Elliot lean over the bed and pull on (a pair of Merlin's) boxers.

“We—We--” His voice cracked. His stomach felt so nauseous that he grasped for the edge of the bed. “We are, El, I swear, this is amazing. Being with you. I just--”

“You just what?” he sneered over his shoulder.

“I just...I mean, it's November,” Merlin said, swallowing dryly. “And you haven't--”

“I haven't what?”

Merlin sat up in bed and kicked the blankets away.

“You haven't done anything,” Merlin said tersely. “I have responsibilities here. I have school and a job and people I need to spend time with.”

“What about me, then? Not good enough for your time?”

“El, I spend all of my time with you.” It seemed crazy, but Merlin could hear the latch of flood gates exploding in his head. “You don't work, you don't go to school, and you make no effort to do anything!”

“I'm here to be with you!”

Merlin's tongue grew thick in his mouth. He hadn't yet raised his voice, but he felt horrible. All around just horrible. Elliot's bare back was covered by a tight black tee, his ass hitching into tighter jeans.

“Look, I don't want to fight about this,” Merlin whispered, reaching for his hand. He snagged his thumb, pulling him closer to the bed. Elliot wouldn't turn to him. Merlin kissed his inner wrist. “I just want...”

“What? What do you want?” Elliot said, pulling his hand away. He turned around, hands on his hips. “What do you want Merlin?”

“I just...I want us to both be happy. And fulfilled.”

“Do I not fulfill you?”

Merlin's mouth moved without sound, his eyes silently pleading with Elliot to just come back to bed.

“You do, of course you do, but I feel like you're...You're still living as if we're in Paris.” Merlin's chest felt as if a weight was lifted off once he finally verbalized what he'd been feeling for weeks. Elliot swiped his wallet and keys off the bedside table. “It's fine to dick around in a summer program, but c'mon, man. We're back to real life now.”

Elliot looked at him with dead eyes. There was none of the mischievous warmth Merlin fell for, or the sweet, sly smile.

“I'm going out,” was all he said.

Merlin frowned.

“Where?”

“To get a job,” Elliot mocked, turning on his heel.

The door slammed in the background. Merlin fell back in bed, his hands over his face. 

 

**Friday November 7**

The start of midterms felt like a smack in the face for the junior class. It felt earlier this year. Many teachers had began to assign their own midterm date, one that was earlier than the school designated week. For the students, being of legal drinking age in their own apartments had led to a bit of partying when studying should be happening. Even so, some students were prepared for the deluge of tests and assignments.

Arthur tucked eagerly into his bluebook, his pencil point scribbling along the page with words he'd planned in his head for days. At first he was annoyed that students were required to take liberal arts classes throughout their degree program, but as time went on, he actually appreciated being forced to read literature. To study philosophy. To write papers. Lance said he was a lifelong nerd. Writing wasn't Lance's strong suit; he was more of a math guy.

Before he knew it an hour had passed. His bluebook was full, as was the test portion he had already completed. He looked around the classroom. 

He saw Merlin frowning at his desk, his pencil eraser digging into the center of chin. Arthur tilted his head. Strange. Merlin was usually done at around the same time as him, if not sooner. And he never looked frustrated while taking tests. If anything, Merlin was as much of a writing nerd as he was. 

Arthur stood from his desk and walked to the front, shrugging his backpack on. Gwaine pinched his butt as he passed, a small smile flickering over Arthur's face. He submitted his materials and glanced over his shoulder. He caught Merlin staring at him. Before Arthur could stop himself he smirked and raised a challenging eyebrow. Merlin sighed and started to write, smoke practically coming off of his bluebook.

. . .

That night the school emptied into Brewer's, which was quite possibly the most popular bar for MIA students. They had craft beers, a menu planned around locally grown food, and plenty of padded booths for students to crowd into.

“How was your History III test?” Merlin asked Gwen over a Nada Surf song blasting through the bar. Gwen shrugged and took a long swig of beer. Merlin patted her thigh. “C'mon, we studied for hours for it!”

“Well,” Gwen couldn't hold back a smile anymore, “I got an email from my professor...”

“And!?”

“I aced it.”

Merlin squealed and clinked their glasses together. “Yeah, baby!”

Gwen burst out laughing, Lance sliding into the booth next to her. 

“Did she tell you that her professor emailed her and said he'd never read such an incredible essay--”

“Lance!” she giggled, playfully slapping his shoulder. She muffled his words with her lips, Lance grinning into a soft kiss.

Merlin felt Elliot return to his side of the booth. Elliot kissed his neck, a warm hand sliding up the bottom of his tee to rest on his lower back. 

“Hi handsome,” Elliot whispered in his ear.

Elliot's breath was hot against his skin, Merlin able to smell hops without turning to face him.

“Hi,” Merlin sighed happily, resting his cheek on Elliot's bony shoulder. Elliot's fingers threaded through his hair, fingernails massaging his scalp. Merlin's lips spread in a smile. Elliot brushed his thumb over Merlin's cheekbone, kissing his nose. “I'm glad you came out with us tonight.” He gripped Elliot's hand gently and kissed his palm. “It's been a stressful week, but I've missed you the whole time.”

“I missed you too, Merly.”

Merlin smiled wider and kissed his cheek.

Across the bar Arthur, Gwaine, and Percy entered. They sidled up to the bar in search of alcohol. Percy had been offering his services as a personal trainer, and Arthur and Gwaine were about ready to pass out from being so sore. They needed beer to numb the pain.

“Let's go sit,” Gwaine shouted over the music. He pointed towards Merlin, who had spotted them and was smiling wide. “My ass is killing me.”

Percy smiled at the floor, Gwaine's finger prodding his side.

“I'm gonna stay here a bit,” Arthur said, lifting his beer in a cheers.

Gwaine smiled at the blond and nodded, carrying both his and Percy's beer to the table. Chairs were pulled up to the table for the new additions. Gwaine ruffled Merlin's hair in greeting as he sat down, Percy's hand secretly resting on his lower back.

The conversation started with various midterm related rants, but, as the beer flowed, it soon veered into sillier territory.

“I swear to fucking God, Gaius is banging that librarian lady,” Gwaine insisted, his hand over his heart. “Whassername? Trudy? Yeah, Trudy. You know that they go to the back shelves, you know, the boring books, and just--” He lifted his hand and made a spanking motion, groaning wildly. “Oh, yeah, baby, Dewey my decimal system!”

Lance's mouth was stuck open in silent laughter, Merlin wheezing and leaning against Elliot. Even Gwen was snorting uncontrollably, Percy on the brink of tears.

“Though I guess we should all be happy he's getting some,” Lance laughed, his hair uncharacteristically messy. “Good for him.” 

“Merlin likes a bit of a tickle in bed,” Elliot slurred, winking at his boyfriend. 

The group of friends all gasped in unison, Merlin's smile going from amused to mortified in a split second. Gwen's hands clutched her cheeks while Lance just shifted uncomfortably. Elliot chuckled low in his throat.

“A slap and tickle, you know?”

“Elliot,” Merlin laughed, holding his hand over Elliot's mouth. “Shut up!” He yelped and dropped one hand, pushing something on his knee away. “Not here, you're being silly!”

His breath caught on his throat, even with Elliot squeezing his sensitive knee cap under the table. Arthur's eyes burned into him from across the table. He hadn't realized Arthur had joined their group. Just like that, the atmosphere of the table had gone from jovial to horrifying. Merlin smiled and pushed Elliot's hand off his leg, determined not to overdramatize his boyfriend's strange remark.

“Need another beer,” Elliot said, biting on Merlin's neck.

Merlin laughed, “Go,” and turned away from him, Gwen's concerned eyes following Elliot's every move.

Elliot pulled himself up from the table and sauntered away. This American beer was so cheap, it never got the job done with just one. He made it to the bar no problem, other than a slight run in with a decorative pole. While he waited for the bartender to fetch his drink, he noticed an empty pint glass with two singles underneath. He looked left and right, fingers sliding towards the singles.

“Hey, Craig,” Arthur called over the bar, standing right next to Elliot. The bartender smiled at Arthur as he filled a handful of shot glasses. “When you get a chance, I'll take a refill. No rush”

Craig, the bartender, shouted something back with a thumbs up. The potter rested his glass on the bar top, leaning his forearms on the edge. Elliot's eyes traced over the straight line of Arthur's nose.

“You have phenomenal bone structure,” he said.

Arthur looked at him. He didn't even want to waste a raised eyebrow on the sloppy blond.

“Thanks,” was all he replied. 

Elliot started to laugh, though it was more like a nasal wheeze. Arthur stayed staring straight ahead. A fresh beer was placed in front of him. Elliot waved to the bartender and sighed heavily, his attempt for more beer ignored. He leaned his weight into Arthur.

“I believe I've upset my misses,” he confided, still snickering. He jutted his head backwards, Arthur's eyes darting to the table. “You surely understand, eh, Pendragon? A guy like you. You've got to have been in the dog house before.”

Arthur continued to lean against the bar and sipped his beer. His eyes blinked lazily with heavy lashes. He ignored the implication that he was a certain kind of guy. Elliot was too busy babbling about his birthday party to realize what he said was offensive. Arthur's arm curved around his torso to rest his elbow on the bar, his hand bent while holding the smooth glass.

“I would never speak of my girlfriend or boyfriend in public that way,” he drawled without even turning his head, bored. He sipped again. “I think that was disgraceful back there.” He turned then to look at him, Elliot's face crunched with confusion. “Whether you're drunk or not, you've just embarrassed your boyfriend in front of all of his friends, who have taken you in because they care for him.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Like I said: Disgraceful.”

Arthur picked up his glass and brought it to his lips, draining the remaining beer. Elliot glared at him the entire time. He placed the glass back on its coaster. He seemed to have no trouble holding eye contact while fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

“Who the fuck are you to talk about my boyfriend?” Elliot slurred, leaning closer to him. His accent grew heavier the more he drank, Arthur noted. “You don't even know us!”

“I'm no one,” Arthur said easily, shrugging. “You asked my opinion.” He slid a ten dollar bill across to the bartender. “Thanks, Craig.”

“Cheers, man,” Craig said, flying by with three martini glasses balanced in his hands. He stopped for a split second and snagged the bill with his curled pointer finger. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Actually,” Arthur said, pulling his wallet out again. He handed Elliot a twenty, the Brit's nose wrinkling. 

“What the fuck is this?”

“When you and Merlin leave you should take a cab back.”

“We don't need your charity,” Elliot snarled. “I've got plenty of money. Just who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I think you're drunk, we're in a not so good area, and Merlin...” His eyes darted to the painter, who was sitting in the far right corner of the booth and picking his paint speckled thumbnail. He smiled at something Gwen said, but the light in his eyes was dull, his cheeks still flushed. “Is probably tired.” He cleared his throat. “Lazy bastard.” He looked back to Elliot's confused frown. He jutted his fingers forward. “Just take it.”

Elliot's snatched the bill from Arthur. Arthur caught eyes with Craig.

“Don't let him buy booze with that,” he instructed, smirking. 

Craig laughed as he served two appletinis. 

“Yes, sir.”

 

**uesday November 11**

“Hey, it's me. Just wondering if you're on your way home? Where are you? Give me a call or text. Love you.”

Merlin hung up the phone and tossed it on his cluttered kitchen table. His breath was still coming fast, his body aching from being in constant motion for so long. He rubbed his hands over his face, dragging his fingers through the front of his hair and pulling upwards. His microwave beeped. He had forty-five minutes left.

“No,” he groaned, dropping his head back. He clenched his eyes shut. The microwave continued to beep. He shook his head, leaning his shoulders against the kitchen wall. He opened his eyes and saw exactly what had been there a second earlier. He whispered, “Fuck, I'm so fucked.”

His phone vibrated with a text from Gwen, asking if he needed any help. He thumbed back that he was fine, though his kitchen (and life in general) would say otherwise.

He pushed himself off the wall and shut the microwave alarm. There was more, so much more, to be done for dinner. 

There was a knock at his door. 

“Oh, thank god,” he said as he hurried from the kitchen to the living room. He straightened a painting on the wall in passing. “Silly El forgot his key again.”

He pulled the door open and froze.

"You're so early," Merlin said, annoyance tightening his voice. He blinked rapidly and put on a labored, equally tight smile. "I mean, welcome.” He held his arm out into his apartment. “Hello. Thanks for coming."

"Very convincing." Arthur handed him two bottles of wine. "Red's from Lance and Gwen, white's from me. Didn't know if you wanted to chill them before..." 

His eyes traced over Merlin's disheveled appearance. His wild hair stood straight up as if he'd been running his hands through and pulling it upwards, his black roots showing for about an inch but the majority of it still dyed fire engine red. His sweat stained charcoal t-shirt clung to his lean torso, dampness seeping through in the center of his chest, under each arm, and where his navel seemed to be. He had something dribbled on his right shirt sleeve that looked suspiciously like blood. Arthur quirked an eyebrow. 

"...What is rumored to be a dinner party."

Merlin stepped backwards into his apartment with a bottle in each hand. Arthur noticed his bare feet as he padded towards the kitchen.

"Thank you," Merlin called over his shoulder. "For the wine. And, uh. Um..." He gestured to the sofa with the bottle of red wine. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Do you want a drink?"

“No, I'm fine, thanks.”

Arthur slipped his jacket off. He turned in a small circle in the foyer. He spotted a coat rack with Merlin's familiar black coat. He placed his jacked next to Merlin's hook, smoothing the material with his hand.

When he looked at the living room he saw no reason for Merlin to be running around hysterically. Perhaps that was just the preset for the painter. It was clean and cozy, larger than he anticipated and lacking the cliche artsy furniture he figured Merlin would acquire. The furniture was mostly simple and modern, but looked to be a step up from Ikea. 

There were two closed white doors off of the main room. Bedrooms, most likely. A half open door revealed the bathroom, which looked pretty standard for an ancient Baltimore brownstone. Loads of white tile with little black tiles thrown in a random pattern over the floor. 

He walked towards the television, which was mounted on the wall but turned off. His eyes immediately flew to the book and DVD collection, housed in two black cube organizers tucked under the matching coffee table. They could be seen when standing in front of the table, but otherwise were hidden.

“Cool,” Arthur whispered without realizing it. He quickly looked around, but Merlin was nowhere to be found.

He dove into his book and DVD collection, finding many beloved mutual friends. Game of Thrones. Walking Dead. The Wire.

“Yes,” Arthur quietly cheered, pulling out the entire HBO series Rome. He might have to break down and ask Merlin to borrow that. 

As if Merlin knew he was being thought of at the moment, he made a quiet huffing sound in the kitchen, followed by a sickening knock. Forehead against cabinet? 

Arthur called, "Need any help?" and replaced the DVDs in their cubbies.

"What did you--" There was a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by Merlin shouting, "Fucking shit!--I mean," he heard Merlin groan softly to himself, "no, no, thank you. Can I get you a drink?"

Arthur appeared in the kitchen doorway, his forearms on either side of the open door frame. He raised his eyebrows bemusedly.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know," Merlin said, squirting apple juice over an enormous roast. He shoved it back in the oven and shut the door with his hip. "Elliot loves roast beef and it's normally his thing to cook. I don't usually eat meat, let alone cook it."

Arthur hummed. He glanced over his shoulder towards the empty, spotless living room. There was no Brit there polishing the silver or mopping the hardwood floor. Then he looked back to Merlin as he flailed about, clearly exhausted and sweating his ass off and surrounded by cooking implements and ingredients in the cramped kitchen.

"You need help," Arthur stated.

"No, I don't."

"Let me help you."

Merlin's head whipped up towards his unexpectedly early guest. His mouth opened, a vicious retort about Arthur never having to clean up after himself all his privileged life just about our of his mouth.

"You're a guest."

"Who cares?" Arthur stepped into the room and put his hands on his hips. "What do you need me to do?"

"I should just do it--"

"Dishwasher," Arthur said, moving towards the sink. “I'll load it.” 

He rolled up the sleeves of his white button up shirt, tanned forearms flexing with the motion. He turned on the faucet and picked up a few plates, rinsing them quickly. Merlin just stared at him, jaw on his chest. Arthur blinked at him. 

"Stop gaping and get to work, Merlin."

Merlin felt bubbles of laughter tingling in his belly, Arthur loading the dishwasher without another word. He was so caught up watching Arthur load that he forgot to do anything. He hummed and took out asparagus from the fridge. He snapped the ends off and laid them in a foil lined pan. He slid it into the oven.

“What else?”

Merlin looked over and saw the sink empty, Arthur standing with his hands on his hips. He quickly squatted down to push in the bottom dishwasher row.

“Um...”

He stood to his full height to shut the dishwasher with his hip. He pressed a few buttons. It hummed hypnotically, the smell of soap lightening the air. 

“I've got to do the potatoes.”

The painter pulled two bags of red potatoes out of a grocery bag on the table. 

“I'll wash those,” Arthur said, taking both bags in one wet hand. “Colander?”

“Left of the sink,” Merlin answered mechanically.

Arthur jutted his chin towards the table. “Why don't you tackle that?”

“Right, good idea,” Merlin mumbled. He took a step towards the table, then a step towards the fridge, then back to the table. Absently, he said, “There's a salad--”

“I'll take care of it.” Arthur threw a smile in his direction with his eyes still focused on the sink. “Do the table. We have to eat on something tonight.”

Merlin squinted at his enemy as he scrubbed potatoes, Arthur's brows furrowed with effort. He pulled the garbage over and started to sort. 

He managed to clear off the table by the time the microwave beeped again.

“Shit, I'm running out of time.” He swiped his hands over his face. His lips snarled in disgust; he rubbed his sweaty palms against his shorts. “I need to start wiping this place down.”

“You need to take a shower.”

Merlin felt none of the outrage he would have anticipated from Arthur's comment. Arthur lifted the colander of scrubbed potatoes onto the counter with a thunk.

“I need to clean,” Merlin said, his voice growing weary. Elliot had still not gotten home. “Guests are arriving in fifteen minutes.” He propped his arms on top of his head, his tee riding up on his belly. “I'm going to fall asleep on the roast.”

“I'm here and I will finish up in the kitchen.” Arthur pointed both of his fingers at Merlin's kitchen cabinets. “Pan for potatoes?”

Merlin walked over and squatted down, pulling the pan from a cabinet beside the oven. He handed it up to Arthur, who was already pulling a sheet of aluminum foil large enough for the pan. Arthur replaced the foil box in a drawer Merlin didn't remember pointing out to him. The blond bent over and opened the cabinets beneath Merlin's sink.

“Where's your cleaning stuff?” Arthur did a once over on Merlin's appearance. “You own cleaning supplies, yes?”

“Yes, I do, smart ass,” Merlin said through a giggle.

He went to the fridge and held a cabinet handle high above his head.

"Of course, because everyone keeps their cleaning supplies in the least accessible cabinet."

Merlin grasped for a bottle of sloshing blue fluid on tiptoe.

"One time I saw a spider under the sink and I've never opened it since."

Arthur's lips twitched, his eyes lighting in amusement. He took the bottle of glass cleaner, Merlin wrestling with a bottle of lemon scented kitchen cleanser.

"It's like you live in a haunted house." He stepped next to Merlin, who lost his balance and toppled over. His lifted arm smooshed against Arthur's face. "Ugh," the blond coughed out a breath of sharp testosterone, cradling his crunched nose, "you fucking stink."

"Fuck you. I know that." Merlin swiped the back of his hand over his forehead and tossed the bottle on the kitchen counter. "I had class, then worked the lunch shift, then came home and Elliot hadn't done--"

His jaw snapped shut. Arthur noted the embarrassed flush rising on his neck, which was not covered by a scarf for once. Instead his skin was open, sweat dripping from his hairline.

"Look, go take a shower," Arthur said, grabbing the bottle of kitchen cleaner from Merlin's hands. "I'll do this."

Merlin's eyes were panicked while he looked around the kitchen.

"But there's too much to be done!"

"Merlin."

"The roast needs to be given more juice and the little potatoes haven't—Walnuts on the salad--And the table isn't set and—I have to put in the little quiches--" 

"Go. Take. A shower," Arthur insisted, shoving his shoulders gently. He turned Merlin towards the doorway. “Please. For the good of humanity.”

Merlin lifted his right arm and sniffed as he was pushed towards the living room.

“I don't smell that bad, do I?”

Arthur spun Merlin and said, “You do,” before spritzing glass cleaner under his still raised arm.

“Hey,” Merlin said, giggling and pulling his arm down. Arthur, back to his normal bored expression, poised the glass cleaner at his stomach, nudging Merlin out of the kitchen with the tip. Merlin held his palms towards him in defense. “Alright, alright, but I'll be out in five minutes, tops!”

“Take a ten minute shower.” Arthur's noble nose wrinkled. “I think the occasion warrants it.”

“Ha ha, real funny,” Merlin laughed in the distance.

“You'll feel better,” Arthur called back to him.

He heard he sound of bare feet padding on the hardwood floor grow further away. A door clicked shut across the apartment, pipes creaking. He steeled himself with paper towels in one hand and a bottle of glass cleaner in the other. If there was one thing he could do, it was tornado through a room and clean the shit out it.

As Merlin was scrubbing his toes with a soapy, thick bristled brush, there was a knock at the bathroom door. 

“It's open,” he said over the pounding water.

“How did you want the potatoes?”

“Oh, uh,” Merlin wiggled his toes on the bottom of the tub, “I usually just season them with salt, pepper, and a little bit of olive oil and throw them in.” He tossed his brush on the rim of the tub. “If you don't have time--”

“No problem.”

The door creaked shut. Merlin blinked, water trickling down his face. 

When he emerged from his room he felt a million times better and was freshly dressed, wearing dark wash skinny jeans and a soft taupe cardigan over a black v-neck. He hadn't yet managed to put shoes on over his black dress socks, but that was okay. Everyone invited to the dinner party, now including Arthur, had seen his toes before. They most likely wouldn't die if he put his shoes on in front of them.

He steeled himself as he approached the kitchen. It wasn't that he had no faith in Arthur's cleaning skills. He was just so spent from cleaning their apartment from top to bottom, including a rather colorful mess Elliot had left after trying to complete a painting in the middle of the living room, that he really had no idea what to expect. 

Elliot was constant fun, but he lacked in the whole cleaning up (ever) part of being roommates. Merlin didn't realize living with a boyfriend meant moving in with a hoarder. 

The first thing that struck him as he approached the kitchen doorway was the smell. Butter and and warmth and lemon and just the hint of sweet apples. It reminded him of coming home from school to find his mother preparing for dinner guests, when he would sneak bites of her delicious cooking while trying to help her tie up loose ends.

He gasped aloud, his eyes bugging out of his head.

The wooden table was cleaned off completely and reset with sparklingly clean white dishes. Napkins were folded neatly at each plate, the forks and knives lined up in perfect symmetry. The sink was empty and equally shiny. Two small white candles burned in the center of the set table. A bowl of lemons was the perfect cheerful centerpiece. 

Merlin's jaw dropped further. Arthur created a centerpiece?

The floor had been swept and, based on the slightly ajar closet door and crisp scent in the air, swiffered. The dishwasher still hummed, which made no sense. They didn't have enough plates to set the table if the dishwasher was full. 

“Did he...”

Merlin popped the dishwasher open and just shook his head. Arthur must have taken out enough plates for dinner, hand washed them, dried them, then reset the dishwasher.

“What on earth?”

His bizarro experience in what he thought was his filthy kitchen only continued when he peeked in the oven. A large rectangular pan was full of glistening, small potatoes. A smaller pan of asparagus was coming along nicely. Despite Merlin's normally meat-free ways, the pot roast looked juicy as fuck. His mouth watered, both at the sight and combination of smells emanating from his oven. 

His door buzzed. He spun around the kitchen.

“Arthur?” he called out.

He walked into the living room quickly, bending near the door to pick up his dress shoes. He hopped on one foot to the buzzer and pressed the button.

“Hello?”

“Hello, there, yummy muffin,” Gwaine's voice smiled through the tinny speaker. 

Merlin laughed, “Gwaine, you live in this building. You could have just come up.”

“But buzzing is so much more fun!”

“We're with him Merlin,” Gwen's voice piped up.

Merlin laughed harder and let them in. He dropped his shoe to the ground and shoved his foot inside. His door creaked open.

“You two both have keys to this place, too!” Merlin said as he pulled Gwen into a hug. “You can come in any time.”

She pecked his cheek and hugged him tighter, noting the absence of the birthday boy. Lance appeared smiling over his shoulder, holding up a large white box. Gwaine sniffed the box and groaned, hugging his own bag of cookies to his chest.

“I love a good cheesecake.”

Percy took his scarf off and gasped.

“How did you smell a cheesecake?”

Gwaine tapped his own nose proudly.

“I'm like a blood hound, I swear. Perfect sense of smell.”

Arthur slipped in behind the chattering group, placing his coat on the coat rack. He and Merlin caught eyes, Merlin tilting his head in confusion. His full lips pursed to say something, but Arthur just shook his head. 

“So, where's the birthday boy?”

Gwaine's innocent question made Merlin look away from Arthur, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

“He's running a little late, apparently,” Merlin said, accepting the desserts from his friends. He smiled, bright and wide. “But we can start on drinks.”

Wine bottles were uncorked, glasses passed around. Merlin put out a platter of mini quiches, all meat free but delicious nonetheless. He relaxed on the sofa with Arthur next to him. The blond remained mostly quiet, interjecting when necessary but seemingly content to listen to everyone else. Merlin looked away from Arthur's hair, which seemed to be shorter on the sides than last week.

“I'm gonna go put dinner on the table.”

“Can I help?” Gwen asked, halfway off the couch.

“No, no,” Merlin giggled, gently pushing her to sit down. “You're my guest. I'll take care of it.”

As he walked through the kitchen doorway he heard Arthur say, “Need more wine, anyone?”

Merlin opened the oven with thick mitts on his hands, Arthur leaning down beside him. The potter whistled softly.

“Looks like a real beauty.”

Merlin laughed and pulled it out of the oven. He let out a labored grunt, placing it on the stove top. Arthur shut the oven and picked up a knife.

“May I?”

Merlin nodded enthusiastically.

“Have at it.”

While Arthur carved, Merlin busied himself with checking the other dishes and his salad. He placed the salad on the table. He removed the asparagus pan from the oven and slid the tender vegetables onto a long blue plate. He watched Arthur make rhythmic, careful slices, each one ending with him lifting a juicy sliver of meat onto a waiting platter. Merlin eyed the juice gathering in the roast pan, crossing his arms over his chest with his oven mitts still on.

“I hope it's good.”

“Of course it's good.” The tip of Arthur's pink tongue stuck out as he placed the final slice of meat on the pile. He placed the knife carefully in the sink and rinsed his hands. “I don't fail at things.”

Merlin pulled off an oven mitt and snorted, “Wow.” He threw it on the counter. “How silly of me.”

Arthur pinched off a tiny piece from the meat left in the roast pan and popped it into his mouth. He hummed, sucking juice from the ends of his fingers.

“Try it,” he said, snagging another small piece. He turned to Merlin with the piece between his fingers. “You'll love it. It's perfect.”

“Nah.” Merlin wrinkled his nose. The last thing he wanted was to suck anything off of Arthur Pendragon's dirty fingers. “I don't like meat.”

Arthur's eyebrows rose. He almost looked like he was going to start laughing, which made little sense to Merlin. Merlin almost felt like laughing, which made even less sense. They didn't laugh together.

“You need to know if it is safe for guests,” Arthur insisted, poising the meat near Merlin's lips. “A good chef tests his food.” 

Merlin shut his mouth and shook his head, his cheeks trembling not to laugh. It felt reminiscent. Apple pastries. He swatted Arthur's chest with an oven mitt.

The smell of Arthur's shampoo tingled his nostrils; the warmth of his body pressed into his skin, or maybe that was the oven. 

Arthur sighed as if he was put off. He deepened his voice to say, “Oh, c'mon, Veggie Boy, eat the meat.” 

Then Merlin did sputter a laugh, which gave Arthur's fingers an in. He gently pushed the bite of pot roast between his lips.

Arthur grinned, smug and satisfied, as he watched Merlin's disgusted expression grow even more dramatic, all squinted eyes and a minute, angry shaking of his head. Merlin's mouth closed. He had a protest poised to exit his lips (along with a spit of pot roast aimed directly at Arthur's face), but then he chewed just once. Just one chew. Just that one burst of flavor and tenderness on his tongue with Arthur's fingers still touching his lips. 

Salty, comforting juice spread over his palate and his teeth sunk in. A moan vibrated against Arthur's fingers, so quiet that it wouldn't have been heard. It had to be felt. 

Arthur's grin softened; Merlin flushed. The blond tilted his head, his eyes unreadable.

They both stood still in the kitchen, bodies pressed together. Some juice still lingered on the right corner of Merlin's open mouth. It was that, Merlin told himself. It was the bite of meat that caused his blood to spike, his head to pound. 

Arthur thumbed the corner of his lips, his touch slow; gentle.

It took Merlin shutting his lips and looking away to break their stare. He looked down at Arthur's chest. His hand had been clenched in the front of his white button down. When he let him go the shirt had a circle with five points leading outward, bunch marks marring the perfectly pressed material. 

“You guys almost done with the meat? I'm fucking dying for dinner.”

“Gwaine,” Percy's voice chided softly, everyone laughing. “How rude.”

“But where's Elliot?” Lance's voice wondered.

The softness of Arthur's smile disappeared. He gripped the edges of the platter.

“Your potatoes are going to burn,” he said with his back to Merlin. He placed the platter on the center of the table. “I'll get the others.”

The meal went off without a hitch, save for the missing Brit. Who had not yet texted or called Merlin. Merlin was thankful for the wine that kept appearing in his glass.

Gwen placed a forkful of potatoes between her lips and her face crumpled.

“Merlin,” she hummed, Lance nodding in agreement without even knowing what she was going to say. “These are delicious!”

Merlin looked towards Arthur, who was casually cutting into his meat.

“Uh, thanks,” he replied, smiling shyly. “Glad you like them.”

Dishes were placed in the sink and friends were shooed out of the kitchen. 

“I'll deal with those later,” Merlin said, already breaking into Gwaine's cookies.

Dessert was served in the living room, along with tea and coffee. While Gwaine explained a project he and Percy were tinkering with, Merlin rolled his neck against the back of the sofa, a long sigh leaving his body. He shut his eyes and stretched his arms over his head. The ache of running at full speed all day seemed to catch up with him all at once.

Arthur sat down in the arm chair next to the sofa. He slid a glass of red wine across the coffee table. Their eyes flickered together, Merlin's questioning and Arthur's demure.

The doorknob jiggled rapidly. Merlin sat up straighter. 

“Merly,” Elliot's voice giggled through the door. “Oh Meeeerrrrly?”

The painter stood from the sofa and walked towards the door with brisk steps. Just as the exhaustion of the day caught up with him, his anger at Elliot's behavior rushed him with full force. Just as he reached for the doorknob the door flew open.

Elliot's jolly, drunk smile bloomed into an excited holler. He burst into the room, bumping into Merlin.

“It's my motherfucking birthday!”

Merlin smiled tightly, though his friends were not smiling. Not at all.

“Merl, I invited some people over,” Elliot said in a stage whisper, his arm slung around Merlin's shoulders. Merlin heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Who? El, what did you--”

“Party here?” an older man slurred, happily walking into Merlin's apartment. 

Gwaine, Lance and Arthur jumped up, Gwaine rushing to the door.

“No, no party here, man,” he said, patting the man on the chest. He gasped; the man stank of gin in the most cliché way. He turned him around just in time to block another grizzled guest. From the barflies Elliot had compiled, Gwaine gathered that he had been at the Boat all day. “Take care.”

He shut the door, Merlin silent and glaring at Elliot. Elliot giggled and hiccuped.

“Where's my food? My birthday cake, hm?”

“Your food was ready hours ago,” Gwen said sweetly, standing from the sofa. She smiled at Elliot, Lance's hand steady on her lower back “Where were you for your own dinner party?”

“Celebrating, of course!”

Elliot didn't seem to notice his boyfriend's crushed expression, Merlin's eyes sagging and his chest dropping. Merlin just walked into the bathroom, one of his hands laced tight in his hair. 

'I'll be right back,” he murmured before closing the door.

When he came out of the bathroom no one was there but Elliot. While he was in the bathroom his phone had vibrated with texts. Gwen, Lance, Percy, Gwaine all said thank you for the lovely evening and that they would see him tomorrow. To please let them know if he needed help cleaning up and they'd be back in an instant. Even Arthur sent him a text. He didn't know Arthur had his phone number.

He walked out to find Elliot drinking what used to be his glass of red wine. His shoes shuffled on the living room floor; the sound alerted Elliot.

“Merly!”

In his flailing excitement, Elliot knocked over the glass of wine. He didn't notice it as it dripped over the edge of the coffee table and drenched the contents of a cubby, but Merlin did. He rushed over, cursing under his breath and grabbing the glass.

“Shit,” he whispered, pawing the coffee table. He gripped a napkin and dabbed as much of the wine as he could, tossing his collection to the floor. “Damn it, El.”

“What?”

Merlin looked up from a ruined season two DVD set for Weeds, furious.

“What, what? Why do you look so shocked? Oh right,” Merlin laughed bitterly, “because you're drunk. Yet again.”

“It's my birthday,” Elliot argued.

“Exactly.” Merlin stood to his full height, wine stained napkins in one hand, his ruined DVD case in another. “It's your birthday, which is why I killed myself making this dinner party for you. A dinner party you neglected to attend.”

“I had other plans.”

Merlin gasped but closed his mouth fast enough to stifle it. He clenched his eyes shut, hot tears prickling his eyelids. The exhaustion and frustration of the day was only going to get worse if they continued this conversation. 

“El, I don't even want to fight about this. I just want to go to sleep. I'm exhausted.”

Elliot spread his legs, his arms resting on the back of the couch.

“What is there to fight about?”

Merlin just sighed and went into the bedroom.

“Merlin?” Elliot called after him after a minute of silence. Merlin appeared with his backpack and messenger bag. He offered Elliot a tired smile.

“It's your birthday. I don't want to upset you. Let's just relax tonight, alright?”

“Well,” Elliot looked from his crotch to Merlin, “are we gonna fuck or what? It's my birthday.”

“Tempting offer, but no. We are not fucking tonight.”

. . . 

As Arthur laid in bed that night his mind started to wander. Wonder. Wander. Ramble. All of those things.

What would it be like to have someone to throw birthday dinners for? Would anyone want to throw a birthday dinner for him? 

He hitched the blankets higher towards his neck, bare feet rubbing together at the end of the bed. His right foot popped out to cool off. He needed his brain to cool off. Why on earth would he lose sleep wondering about birthday dinners? Of all the things to stress about.

What would it be like to help someone make a meal? To serve it to friends and laugh and drink wine with a specific person? 

At the end of the night, he would insist on cleaning up. On doing all the work. Because maybe his person had had a bit too much wine. Or maybe they already worked all day and were tired. Or maybe just because he wanted to spoil that person. They deserved to relax after such a big meal. They were his person.

He'd clean up and maybe, if they were feeling lazy, they would just crash on the sofa. He'd pull his person's feet into his lap and rub them until they fell asleep mid-sentence. 

Or maybe he would carry his person to bed, even if they laughed and protested from over his shoulder. He would hold them close and he would give them most of the blankets. Arthur was always too hot when he slept anyway. He didn't need them. 

Speaking of overheated, he threw the blankets off and sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. 

 

**Wednesday November 12**

Wild wondering led to sleepless dreams, the frustrating lack of sleep broken only by the shrill ringing of an alarm clock. Arthur groaned and hit his alarm. He dragged his legs out of the cozy blankets and stretched his arms over his head. After a quick bit of stretching next to his bed he jumped into the shower. He popped his toothbrush into his mouth and tied a towel around his waist. 

When he walked out of his room he froze in place. There was a body on the couch. He tiptoed up to the back of the sofa, peering over.

Merlin.

He frowned. When did he get there? Lance must have let him in. He slowed his brushstrokes in his mouth, the grating sound loud in the quiet apartment. 

Merlin's eye's moved under his closed eyelids. His neck arched backwards, the back of his head pressed into the sofa. 

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked, toothbrush bobbing.

Merlin peered up at Arthur through groggy eyes. He scratched his fading red hair, blinking slowly. 

“Crashed here last night.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Merlin turned onto his stomach, pulling a pillow over his head.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Arthur shrugged and said, “I didn't ask about it.”

He went about his morning business while Merlin snoozed on the sofa. Lance joined them eventually, though he and Merlin both declined when Arthur offered them cereal. That was a foolish choice. He was offering them his own private supply of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, the most superior cereal in all the land.

Arthur left them to grab his books from the bedroom. He heard Merlin quietly say to Lance, “It'll be fine. I'll go back, we'll talk. It's fine.”

. . .

Merlin walked up the steps to his apartment. His mind couldn't settle on what to say to Elliot first. He had no desire to berate him for his behavior in front of guests, or for his selfish actions leading up to the birthday dinner. This wasn't the right time to talk to him about his drinking. He just wanted to suggest they spend more time trying to find him an apartment of his own, so he could get into his own routine in Baltimore. Above all, he wanted Elliot to be happy and healthy. 

“El?” he said upon entering the quiet apartment.

It was still pretty early. Elliot never was up at this time. Merlin went into their bedroom and dropped his bags. He blinked in shock. No Elliot in bed. His closet door was open, though, and some of his belongings were scattered around the room. Strange.

“Elliot?”

He went back to the living room, checking the kitchen and bathroom for the Brit. When he didn't find him, he went to the only other room in the house. Maybe Elliot had decided to paint.

He opened the studio door. No Elliot, but there was a mess of paint squirted all over the drop cloth covered floors. Merlin gasped, paint drying on the hardwood and some of Mordred's bedspread.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, grabbing a towel and hurrying to an especially large blob of purple paint. 

As he tried to sop up as much of the paint as he could, his eyes caught on the one painting poised on his easel. His lips formed the word, “What,” but no sound came out.

The painting was to be one of the main pieces in his upcoming junior jury show. It was a soft, dreamy portrait in muted colors of Elliot's bare back with just the beginning wisps of his shaggy blond hair in the frame. Merlin had been inspired after a particularly lazy Sunday morning; the sun hit his pale skin just right and accentuated the feline arch of his back.

Instead of an intimate portrait, the words, “IT'S OVER. I'M GONE,” were roughly painted in large red letters over the entire canvas. 

 

**Thursday November 13**

Gwen waved at Merlin from her table in City Cafe. She shut her laptop and slid it to an empty chair. Merlin smiled at her and sat down, placing his laptop on the table. 

“Hello, stranger,” she said warmly. He nodded at her, his mouth busy sipping coffee. “How was the exam?”

“Fine.”

“How's the paper coming?”

Merlin placed his takeout cup on the table and exhaled, “It's done.”

“Awesome! I'm jealous. I've got a page to go plus bibliography. Ugh, I hate the bibliography.”

“Yeah. Lots of things are done.” Merlin opened the plastic wrap around his muffin. “My paper.” He popped a bite into his mouth. “My relationship.”

Gwen watched his eyes water, his jaw tight while he chewed, her face blown open in shock. Merlin shook his head and grabbed his laptop.

“I've got to go.”

“No, wait, Merl--”

“I don't want to make a scene or a big deal,” Merlin said quickly, looping his back over his shoulder. His cheeks already were flushed and damp, Gwen packing her belongings as fast as she could. “I should just go. I'm not good company today.”

“I'm coming with you.”

“You don't have to.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow as she packed the rest of Merlin's muffin in her backpack.

“Your place,” she ordered. “Now.”

They walked in silence to Merlin's apartment, where Merlin wordlessly showed her the studio, just as Elliot had left it. Gwen's mouth was stuck open. She felt a stabbing pain in her stomach, while Merlin just stood next to her, unable to look at the painting. 

“What a fucking dickhead,” Gwen seethed.

“I don't want to make a big thing about it.”

“Merlin,” she gripped his shoulders and turned him towards her, “you're allowed to make a big thing. This is disgusting, what he's done to you. To your painting.” She noticed the overflowing garbage can, full of paint soaked paper towels. “To your home.”

“Yeah, it's pretty...” Merlin's voice trailed off, his throat too thick with tears. He shook his head and laughed. He pulled hard on the top of his hair. “Pretty...Fucked up.”

All it took was Gwen wrapping him in a hug for his tears to start flowing, his nose sniffling all over her caramel sweater.

“Let it out,” she soothed, rubbing his back.

“I mean, what the fuck?” Merlin said through his tears, his nose red and stinging. He heaved for a second, Gwen hugging him tightly while more hot tears streamed down his already overheated face. “Who just does that? Who just fucking leaves the country, permanently, and doesn't even tell their boyfriend? What the FUCK is that?”

His ragged voice gave out, his face pressed into Gwen's neck.

“Merlin,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say, other than that he's a total asshole. A complete and utter fool.”

“It's like...This was supposed to be a big th-thing for me,” Merlin stuttered. “I wanted him to be with me because I fucking love him, and he's important to me, and this holiday and my show and—It was an important thing for me and he should be here, not in London or wherever the fuck he is.”

“I know. You're absolutely right. I just...I don't get it.”

“I left him here alone last night, so I guess he...I guess he didn't like that. But I didn't mean...I didn't mean for him to leave.”

Gwen softly said, “Right. Lance mentioned you crashed there.”

Merlin's face crumpled and he went towards the door, his arm around Gwen's lower back.

“Let's get out of here. I can't look at that anymore.”

. . .

Arthur opened the door to his room and took one step out. He had a bowl of cereal calling his name in the kitchen. Cereal was perfect for midterms and finals; the ultimate lazy meal.

“He's so upset,” Gwen's concerned voice whispered, clearly meaning to reach Lance's ears only. “Just completely destroyed.” Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. His bare feet paused on the hardwood floor. “I'm going to stay at his place tonight. Help him clean up the studio.”

“Sure, of course,” Lance replied. 

“It's just disgusting. Who does something like that? Especially to someone like Merlin, who was just...So devoted and so in love.”

He could hear Gwen's voice start to quiver, Lance hushing her while their clothing shuffled. Arthur leaned against his bedroom doorway, itching his balls through his dark grey sweats. Who else would cause such drama than Merlin?

“You're right. He's too good for that dickhead.”

“His show is so soon and he's just an absolute mess,” Gwen whispered, her voice even shakier than before. 

“Can he postpone?”

“No, his teacher is traveling next semester. It had to be this semester.”

Lance sighed, “Of all the luck. That's awful.”

“I will never forgive Elliot for doing this to him.” Arthur could hear the steel in her voice. “Never ever.”

“I never liked him,” Lance admitted quietly. It sounded as if the words tasted toxic coming out of his mouth; Lance wasn't one to shit talk.

Gwen gasped. 

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“I dunno. Merlin liked him, and they were really, I dunno, happy together. You know?”

Arthur started the short walk to the kitchen. He didn't have all night to eavesdrop on his friends as they got themselves in a tizzy over Merlin's failed relationship. 

Gwen's expression perked up when she saw him approach over Lance's shoulder.

“Arthur,” she said, stepping back from Lance. “Hi.” She smoothed her hair down. “I didn't know you were home.”

Arthur gave her a small smile at her and nodded.

“Just getting some food. Will be out of the way soon.”

“I didn't mean that,” she said, laughing. “Just...Nevermind. It's been a weird day, forgive me.”

“No worries.”

He opened the fridge and grabbed his almond milk. He picked his favorite blue bowl and popped the top of his Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Lance and Gwen's whispered words had slowed. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that both were texting someone on their iPhones.

“I'm going to get Chinese and bring it to Merlin's,” Gwen's voice said softly. 

“Sounds perfect. Buy him extra egg rolls. That usually cheers him up.”

“Aw, Lance, you're so cute.”

Arthur wrinkled his nose, able to hear the distinct sound of two people kissing. He replaced the milk in the fridge and picked up his bowl. He cleared his throat before turning around, the sound of lips parting bringing a small smile to his face.

He walked back into the living room, Lance and Gwen flushed but smiling at him. 

“You two look awfully guilty,” Arthur teased, Lance laughing loudly. “I think you're allowed to make out, since you've been dating for a million years.” That made Gwen giggle a little, her hand flying to her mouth. He scooped a spoonful of cereal. “What's up, Gwen? You're stressed.”

“I, uh, well, a friend of mine is just very upset,” she said carefully. 

“Merlin,” Arthur stated with his mouth full. She nodded. He swallowed. “The art store ran out of fuchsia paint?”

Gwen and Lance's eyes darted to each other.

“Guy troubles,” Lance answered, ever the diplomat. “But it's nothing to be worried about.” He squeezed Gwen's shoulders. “He'll be getting the Gwen treatment until he's all better.”

Arthur's back teeth crunched over the sweet, cinnamon goodness.

“Did he dump that British guy? Evan or Erin or whatever?”

“Elliot,” Gwen and Lance answered at the same time, both rather heated at the mention of his name.

“They, uh, are over, yeah,” Gwen bumbled. How much should she share with Merlin's sworn enemy? “And it didn't end well. He sort of just...” She looked to lance, who shrugged slightly. “Left. The country. Without telling him.”

“Hm,” Arthur said, chewing another spoonful. He tried to feel sympathy for Merlin's situation; he'd been dumped before and it wasn't very fun. For whatever reason, he felt nothing. Maybe he was just exhausted from having Merlin around constantly for the past couple of weeks. “Oh well.”

Gwen's expression crumpled.

“How can you be so blasé about that?”

Lance looked to his roommate, who was still calmly chewing his cereal.

“I don't feel that's blasé, I just think that he's better off.” Arthur stepped closer, Gwen glaring up at him. “You must think I'm an asshole,” he said bluntly. Gwen's mouth popped open, but Arthur shook his head minutely. “Maybe I am. But I understand. He's your best friend, his heart is broken, blah blah blah.” 

He waved his spoon in the air. Gwen did not seem pacified by that response, her jaw twitching. 

He continued, “To be honest, the few interactions I had with the Brit were shitty. He's amusing, but he was never particularly good to me. I mean, you were both present at the dinner party from hell. That might as well have been filmed for a special episode of The Real Housewives of Baltimore.” Gwen's face relaxed at that. Arthur chewed another spoonful, smiling with his lips shut. “Wow, you look so surprised.” He looked from Lance to Gwen. “You're both artists. You know what it's like to be an artist; what it takes to date an artist.”

They looked at each other. From their confusion, Arthur suspected they were a rare perfect storm of love, where their art never conflicted. 

“I suppose you two work so well because you are not in the same field,” Arthur clarified. He lifted his bowl to his lips and sipped some almond milk. “Music performance and architecture are far enough away from each other to not interfere.” He smirked and fluttered his eyelashes. “Hence the storybook,” he sighed dramatically and held his spoon to his chest, “fairytale love that radiated from your every move together.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Lance asked, arm snug around Gwen's shoulders. A smile twitched his lips, Gwen also fighting laughter.

“It means that an artist is selfish,” Arthur continued with a shrug. “We have to look out for ourselves. And when you date someone the same discipline, who isn't at your level, well...” He trailed off, stirring the remaining milk with his spoon. Shimmery cinnamon bits swirled around the blue bowl. “It's not going to work. Merlin should have known better.”

“Merlin was in love with him,” Gwen insisted.

“Which is lovely,” Arthur laughed softly. “Love tends to be lovely. But Eric--”

“Elliot,” Lance and Gwen said. 

“--was a painter, like Merlin, and he was no where near Merlin's level.” 

Gwen's eyebrows shot up curiously. How did Arthur know what Elliot's paintings looked like? And since when did he find Merlin to be at any level at all? Arthur could feel Gwen's curiosity radiating off of her. He cleared his throat, running his words through his head.

“It was not going to work. Anyone could have predicted that. Besides,” he snorted, “they were together for, like, a minute. Let's not get too wrapped up in all this.”

He walked past them.

“Why do you and Merlin hate each other so much?” Gwen's voice asked, the words reverberating around the large living room. Arthur could hear Lance hiss, “Gwen, shh,” and Gwen sigh.

Arthur turned.

“Why do you ask?”

Gwen squared her jaw, her lips pursed forward. Arthur smiled briefly; he could see why Lance would fall head over heels with someone so genuinely good, so strong yet so kind.

“Because I don't understand it,” Gwen admitted, laughing a bit. “You've gone to school together for years, known each other for years, you're not the same discipline. So why the anger?”

“I'm not angry about Merlin,” Arthur drawled. He couldn't bring himself to talk about Merlin's lacrosse comment, or his pasta bowl comment, which seemed kind of amusing in hindsight. “And I don't hate him. We just don't mix well, never have. Some people weren't built to be friends.”

Gwen's mouth opened, as if to say something else, but she stopped. She nodded and looked to Lance, who smiled sadly at her. 

“I'd better go,” she said. “He'll never ask for help, but I'll try my best.”

“You're the sweetest,” Lance said, kissing her nose.

“If you ever leave the country on me I will hunt you down and kill you,” Gwen's normal timid voice said with as much force as she could, Lance giggling and kissing her cheek. “I'm not kidding! My brother works for the FBI.” She prodded Lance's stomach. “I'll find you.”

Arthur stifled vomit and globs of cinnamon cereal from rushing up his windpipe. His face must have expressed his internal disgust, both Gwen and Lance laughing out loud at him.

“Oh, Arthur,” Lance said, reaching to ruffle his hair. Arthur slapped his hand away, though he was smiling a bit. Lance took that as a challenge and pinched his cheek. “I wonder if, one day, you'll drop the gruff act and let the world see just what a teddy bear you are.”

“I'm not addressing that comment,” Arthur replied.

“Teddy bears often don't speak,” Lance countered, Arthur's smile growing.

“Aw, Arthur, you're blushing,” Gwen said, her voice singing as prettily as her flute playing. “I don't believe I've ever seen you blush.”

Arthur hardened his expression. 

“There are so few people at our school, and in the art world in general, with any talent. It would be a shame for someone who isn't totally incompetent to be discouraged by some flash in the pan overgrown summer romance.” He quirked his head, an air of boredom settling over his fine features. “He should get a life, get over himself, and get back in the studio.” Arthur stuck his cereal laden spoon in his mouth and smiled at Gwen and Lance. “I'll be going now. Have to finish up a paper.”

He padded away, munching happily.

. . .

 

“He said what!?”

Gwen sighed, “I knew I shouldn't have even mentioned it.”

“No, no, I'm glad you did,” Merlin said quickly, tears forgotten. He swiped his hands under his cheekbones. “But, Jesus, what an dick! What a fucking know it all.” 

Gwen stroked her fingertips through his hair. It was getting to be so long. He blew air through his lips and pulled his knee to his chest. He hadn't shared any of his Arthur interactions with Gwen, or with anyone. For whatever reason he kept those memories a secret, and he planned on keeping it that way. It was for the best. Only Arthur would jump in to help out at a sinking dinner party but then act like he had all the answers to Merlin's love life woes.

“As if he knows anything about me,” Merlin said as an afterthought.

Gwen's eyebrows arched. How to tactfully say that Arthur seemed to know quite a lot about Merlin?

“I'm pretty sure Arthur is just a sort of tough love kind of person. Let's not forget the true dick: Elliot.”

Merlin nodded, “Yeah, yeah,” and bit into an egg roll. He chewed for a minute, both watching television in silence. “But seriously,” he swallowed, “Arthur Pendragon's got some fucking nerve. Lecturing you about what I should do while he makes a bowl of cereal.” He bit into the roll again. “Pft!”

He dripped more duck sauce on the remaining bit of egg roll, shaking his head. Gwen replaced her cup of tea on Merlin's coffee table. She stoked his hair, Merlin practically purring. 

“I think you're missing what he really said,” she hinted, “which is out of character for him and important.”

“Hm?” Merlin looked away from the second part of the Real Housewives of New Jersey (Season 2) Reunion curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Gwen tucked one leg under herself on the sofa, “he sort of hinted that he thinks you're talented.” She smiled brightly. “And a rarity among people at school, and in the art world.”

Merlin's face was confused, his big eyes blinking and his lips pursed forward. His cheeks crinkled with a sudden toothy smile, his dimples showing while he giggled.

“No, no way. That's not what he said. An arrogant dick like him?” He giggled again and spooned white rice onto his paper plate. “Nah, he's not talking like that.”

That night Merlin dreamed of someone. He couldn't see their face for the longest time, but he felt safe. Happiness bubbled inside of him, along with the warm tug of lazy arousal. He felt himself bundled up in blankets and laughing, felt the vibrations of someone else laughing with him with their bodies touching. A smiling voice teased, “Get over here, you idiot. Want a kiss,” that sounded all too familiar. 

Merlin's eyes shot open with golden hair burned on his eyelids.

“No,” he whispered into darkness, blinking himself awake. He remembered the easy smile of his dream man and shook his head fearfully. Crooked teeth had never been so appealing. “God no,” he said, palming his bedside table. He grasped a water bottle and gulped it down. His throat still felt dry, his head pounding. 

“Merlin?”

He looked to his door and gasped, “Gwen, hi,” putting a smile on. She stepped closer, one of Lance's Baltimore Ravens football jerseys nearly to her knees. “Sorry if my bumbling woke you up.” He sat up a bit. “I just, I think I ate to much Chinese.” He rubbed his stomach. “Made me have nutty dreams.”

She giggled sleepily and sat on his bed.

“You did eat five egg rolls.”

“I was hungry,” Merlin said, grinning. “I'll be fine. Sorry, I'm so sorry I woke you.”

 

**Friday November 15**

“Did you see Merlin's hair?”

“He looks so fucking hot now.”

“He was hot before, but now he's fierce.”

“Has be been working out?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, regretting yet again his decision to grab coffee on campus. Picasso's was a hub for gossip and whispering art students. 

He hurried to take his large Americano and exit the cafe. He would be early for class but at least he could clear his head. When he arrived he made a beeline for his normal seat. The classroom was practically empty, but someone was sitting in Merlin's seat. 

It took him approximately three seconds to realize that the person with newly close cropped black hair was indeed Merlin. The painter was already sitting there, his notebook open and his pencil resting in his limp hand. 

What was there to say? Sorry your weird boyfriend dumped you? Sorry you have a show coming up and are likely having a nervous breakdown? Can I borrow your Rome DVDs? 

Arthur frowned as he sat down. None of those were appropriate.

“You look like you want to say something to me.” 

Arthur looked towards Merlin's reedy voice. His face was blank and still as stone, though heat bubbled under the surface. When Arthur said nothing, Merlin pressed, “Well?”

Arthur could feel his energy vibrating wildly in the air between them, fast as hummingbird wings and nearly as delicate. Merlin filled the two hundred seat lecture hall, yet also made the two seats between them feel like nothing at all. He shrugged and sipped his drink. Merlin did not move a muscle while he slapped his lips together, caffeine buzzing over his tongue. He looked at Merlin's head. His eyes fell to Merlin's face.

“Ears,” was all he said. He tilted his head. “That's all.”

Merlin grumbled and slid both of his hands to his head, rubbing gently as he turned away from Arthur. His shoulders sighed.

Arthur's eyes traced down the newly bare skin just under his hairline, pale and supple as the flesh beneath his ear and the long, graceful line of his neck. In motion, Merlin was clumsy. Messy. Covered in paint more often than not. But seated in that classroom on that particular day he looked like a figure drawing come to life, all smooth lines and extremes.

“Merlin!” Gwaine's voice boomed. Students shuffled to their seats around them. “Look at you, you sexy beast! People in the elevator were all aflutter about your hair, and now I know why!” Merlin laughed softly, Gwaine's hands running over his fuzzy head. “Ooh, feels so soft. You're like a puppy!”

Merlin flushed but smiled.

“Thanks.”

Gwaine sat in the seat next to him. 

“I know you said you don't want to make a big deal,” Gwaine whispered in his ear, “but I just want you to know that I love you and I'm sorry.”

He pressed a wet kiss to his cheek, rubbing his fuzzy head. Merlin offered Lance a small smile as he approached, giggling with Gwaine's lips buzzing on his neck.

“Looking sharp, man,” Lance said, squeezing Merlin's shoulders. He sat on Merlin's other side, with Arthur next to him. “Very chic.”

“I needed to get it all off of my head,” Merlin said. His hand rose to rub over his crown. “Was too much hair. Too hot or something.” His eyes shuttered closed, his sightline directed at the ground. “Will be a change.”

“For the better,” Arthur droned in his normal bored state of voice, Merlin blinking at him. He turned a page of notes and opened his green highlighter. He yawned, “The red was started to look like a dead animal on your head,” while tapping his hand over his open mouth.

Merlin rolled his eyes but said nothing. Arthur was just being Arthur. And he had other things on his mind. There was no time to get offended by Arthur's douchey antics, though Gwen's words from the night before still itched inside his head. He shut his eyes for a moment and breathed. 

Throughout class he involuntarily touched his crew cut. He would reach to tuck his hair over his ear, or to brush his bangs off his forehead, and nothing was there. Lance and Gwaine would sneak rubs until they eventually spent the rest of class rubbing his head, while Arthur didn't even look in his direction. 

The lights of the room dimmed. Digital projections splashed along the wall. Merlin sighed and laid his head on Gwaine's shoulder. The professor kept talking, and Gwaine kept rubbing his head. Slow circles above his ears, then to his temples, then to his crown, then back again, until his body went warm and fuzzy.

He had that dream again, the comfortable, safe, blond dream. He was surrounded by white sheets in a room that felt like air conditioning heaven and someone was nuzzling his inner thighs. Left then right then left. Someone safe and warm. They bit low on his hip and it tickled like crazy and he laughed, the sound of his laughter along with another man's laughter bouncing through his fuzzy head. 

“Jesus Christ, he's snoring,” Arthur's voice floated to him. 

Merlin's eyes blinked open. The professor's voice entered his brain and Gwaine's amused smile was the first thing he saw. He twisted his wrist towards his face, still blinking.

“Shit,” he whispered, sitting up straighter. Class would end in just about five minutes. He looked to Arthur, who was staring daggers at him in the dark. Merlin flushed and held both hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I'm up. Fucking relax.”

Arthur just shook his head and sighed, looking back to the professor, his pencil poised.

 

**Saturday November 16**

Merlin hung his final painting on the gallery wall, stepping back with his head tilted. No guests had arrived yet. The bartender hadn't gotten there yet, though Merlin already stocked the gallery bar with enough alcohol to inebriate an army. He planned on drinking at least half of what was in stock.

To be honest, at this point all he wanted was his teacher to show up, give him a grade, and leave. He'd never been more ready to go home for Thanksgiving and pass out for a weekend.

Before he knew it, students and friends and random strangers off the street were flowing into the gallery, including his teacher. Mr. Hsu surprised him with an array of sushi platters. Merlin had to bite his bottom lip not to cry when he saw all the donated food. It was not necessary, but quite possibly the sweetest thing his boss had ever done.

He was so busy schmoozing and checking on things that he didn't realize that the night was half over. He didn't realize that he was by himself, with no Elliot on his arm. His teacher was very pleased, as were the rest of the faculty who attending. Gaius seemed to be enjoying the sushi and free booze. 

Arthur quietly slipped in alone. He ran a little late from yoga and had to shower at home, hence the delay. He made his way around the paintings.

Despite all of his jibes at Merlin's art over the years, and all the eye rolls he'd done during their class exhibits, he was sort of a secret fan of his work. A very small secret fan!

While most of the painters at MIA either chose controversial subject matter for shock value or refused to learn basic painting technique (they were abstract artists, didn't you know?), Merlin painted the little things in life. His ability was evident in his work. He was able to make things look accurate, yet dreamy. Romantic. Exciting. Beautiful.

A particularly beautiful portrait was of a woman asleep in a maroon recliner. Her mouth was open, her glasses half off her nose. From the scene painted on the television Arthur could guess that it was Law and Order: SVU. Christopher Meloni had never looked so pretty.

“That's my mom. She DVRs shows, then falls asleep, then has to rewatch them. So silly. She wanted to come but I told her not to. I'll see her next week; not worth the trip.”

Arthur didn't look away from the painting. He moved onto the last painting, the final painting in Merlin's collection. He could feel Merlin standing next to him.

“Hm,” Arthur hummed, sipping his wine. 

The sympathy he was not able to feel when he found out about Merlin's breakup formed once he saw the last painting. Merlin was silent next to him, both staring at Elliot's work on a portrait of his own back.

All Arthur said was, “Nice frames,” before he sipped his white wine. He eyed the plastic cup with a wrinkled nose. “Could have gotten better wine, though.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion of setting the exhibit up, the week of Elliot hell, the lack of sleep and poor eating habits, and an abundance of coffee that left Merlin so raw. Whatever it was, Arthur's comment sent him into a hysterical bout of giggles, his head thrown back while he laughed so much his stomach hurt. 

Arthur quirked an eyebrow at him, turning his head ever so slightly.

“You've officially lost your mind,” he said. “Should be a wonderful inspiration for your next,” he used one hand to make air quotes, “exhibit.”

Merlin smiled wide, his eyes glistening with tears, and patted both of his shoulders.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, shaking his head and giggling again. He patted him once more. “Seriously. Glad you're here.”

Someone called Merlin's name and he turned from Arthur, walking quickly across the room. Arthur watched him embrace the person, an older woman with shocking white hair.

An hour later and Merlin was starting to fade. He'd barely eaten all day and had quite a lot of wine. All of the talking required was also wearing on him. He snuck out the window of the gallery office for some breathing time on the fire escape.

He settled with his lags sticking through the grates of the support bannister. The dull hum of people talking faded away, his forehead resting on cool metal. The lump in his throat pushed just a thimble of tears out of his eyes. He wrapped his scarf tighter around himself, shivering on the fire escape. The window behind him rattled. He turned and saw Arthur's head popped out.

“Oh,” Arthur said, frozen. He seemed tense and uncomfortable, almost bashful. “Um...I'll go somewhere else.”

“No, it's fine,” Merlin hurried to say. He scooted over. His eyes looked large and round, the moon hanging so low his skin was practically translucent. Arthur was still frozen inside. “You want to smoke or something?”

Arthur folded his body to climb out the window.

“Don't smoke. Never will.” He sat on the opposite end of the fire escape, looping his legs through the bars. “You?”

“No, not my thing.” Merlin lifted his glass of red wine. “I'm more of a boozer.”

Arthur lifted his beer glass from the windowsill. 

“Understood.”

They were silent, cars zooming loudly below, sirens wailing in the distance. Merlin shivered again, his head dropped back to rest on the side of the building.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yup.”

“Lie,” Arthur said, bored. He mimicked Merlin's position, the artists sitting side by side with the backs of their heads against the brick wall. “My show is right after break. I'm sure I'll be just as ecstatic as you.”

Merlin sipped his wine, letting it mull in his mouth a few seconds. His throat bobbed.

“I'm sure the pasta industry will have a boom in a weeks time.”

Arthur scoffed something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. He rolled his eyes towards the stars.

They grew silent again.

“I feel ridiculous,” Merlin said softly. His throat felt raw, and another gulp of shiraz didn't help that fact. He sighed when Arthur said nothing and tipped his head backwards, his eyes shut. “Neverm--”

“Why?”

Well, that was something. Arthur Pendragon was allowing a conversation. Merlin placed his empty plastic glass on the metal grates of the fire escape.

“I just...I feel ridiculous for many reasons.”

“Moreso than usual?”

Merlin chuckled. He rubbed his hand over the cold metal, wrapping his palm around a bar.

“I hate that you saw me the way you did at the dinner. That you saw me so...Frantic.”

“Why do you care what I think?”

“I don't,” Merlin was quick to say, though his voice was still sleepy and calm. “I just don't like to be that way.”

“We can't all be in control all the time. It happens.”

Arthur's gentle comment made such sense. Merlin continued. 

“I also feel ridiculous because I had this ridiculous idea in my head.” He subconsciously rubbed his hand over his fuzzy head. “I had a couple of shows last year, a couple of awards things, some functions. You know. You were there. And I thought to myself, 'Hm. This would be fun to share with someone.'”

Arthur said nothing, his fingers running along the rim of his beer glass.

“And I thought I might actually have that for once, you know? I thought that for once I'd go home with someone who I knew, who wasn't just a fuck, after a successful show.”

“Of course you've already declared this,” Arthur lifted his hands for air quotes, “show a success.”

Merlin laughed softly, looking in Arthur's direction.

“But,” his laughter tapered off, “I...” He rubbed his hand over his head once more. “I guess it isn't meant to be.”

Arthur inhaled audibly through his nose, rubbing his fingers over his chin.

“If you're looking to girl talk with me, you're talking to the wrong person. Gwen is inside draining the bar.”

“Fuck you,” Merlin said with a smile, noting Arthur's smug smirk. “I'm not girl talking.”

“This is an important year,” Arthur replied. He rolled his neck, his head now oriented in Merlin's direction. Merlin's eyes squinted at Arthur's profile. “Junior year,” the blond clarified. “It's the deciding year for whether you'll graduate. What you do this summer could lead to your job after graduation.” He downed his beer and crushed the plastic cup with his hand. “Now isn't the time to get distracted.”

He got up and brushed his butt off. He bent slightly to swipe Merlin's empty wine glass. Merlin watched his fingers flit through the air.

“Thanks again for coming,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Arthur. All he saw was Arthur's leather jacket covered back.

 

**Wednesday November 20**

Hunith stood with her hands crossed tight, eyes watching the 'Arrivals' board intently. She checked her watch and bopped a little side to side. She smiled upon seeing people start to stumble out of Gate B52. 

She saw Merlin's face at approximately the same time as someone hollered, “Mama Hunith!”

Merlin laughed and Gwaine took off in a sprint, throwing his arms around Hunith before her own son could reach her. The extra plane ticket had to go to someone, and who better than Gwaine? 

 

**Thursday November 21 – Thanksgiving!**

“Arthur, you have outdone yourself,” Uther said with his mouth full. He gulped a drink of wine and swallowed. “Seriously, son,” he reached across the table and ruffled Arthur's hair, “you know how to cook a fucking bird.”

Morgana cackled as her knife made precise cuts through her tender slice of turkey. Arthur just blushed and chewed on Morgana's offering to the meal. 

“Nice stuffing, Morgs,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Very authentic.”

“Thank you,” she replied cheerfully, tipping her wine glass at him. “Whole Foods' finest.”

 

**Friday December 1**

Arthur attached the final name tag to a pottery stand, letting out a deep breath.

“Hey, do you think we should move this one? I think we should.”

The potter shut his eyes. Uther's expensive shoes shuffled over the hardwood gallery floor.

“This is awfully heavy,” Uther laughed.

“Dad, leave it, please.”

“I think it's better over here.”

Arthur massaged his temples with his thumbs, his eyes still shut. Having his father set up camp in Baltimore made sense for Thanksgiving. It was nice to have him around while there were no classes. But to prep for a junior jury gallery showing with his father insisting on being with him twenty-four seven was driving Arthur so far up the wall he was practically floating on the ceiling.

“What do you think? I think I'm right.” Uther giggle to himself. “Well, I know I'm right. But what do you think?”

“I'd really prefer to leave things the way I set them up,” Arthur said, turning towards his father. Uther studied the piece he was trying to move, Arthur's phoenix sculpture, and tapped his lip. He looked to Arthur and smiled. “Seriously, dad, thanks for helping. But why don't you get a drink? The bar is open.”

Uther turned in a circle, eyeing the sparse gallery furniture among Arthur's work.

“There's a bar in here?” He wandered towards the front door. “Is there even a bathroom?”

The gallery became crowded before Arthur could doubt the placement of his work any further. His father mercifully stayed planted on a sofa with Morgana, chatting happily with students and faculty alike. Arthur had already spoken with a few donors who purchased pieces from his exhibit, and had gotten a few business cards from local art shops looking for new stock. An especially enthusiastic older woman had personally placed her card in his front pocket. He was thankful that he'd worn boxer briefs under his black suit pants.

In a smug corner of his mind, Arthur was pleased that his gallery seemed to be even more crowded than Merlin's. The painter had gotten a glowing writeup in the Baltimore Beat, an arts newspaper based out of the city. 

The portrait entitled 'Elliot,' had gotten a special mention. What would have been a painful memory for most people, or a show off tactic for most artists, worked well for Merlin. He seemed brave. He put his heart out there. Arthur only hoped that his pottery and sculptures would carry over with half as much emotion.

As he spoke to people about his art he mentally congratulated himself. It wasn't long ago that the thought of speaking to strangers about his art, or anything in general, caused crippling anxiety. The heat of Peru burned underneath his black button up shirt, nerves and adrenaline fluttering in his stomach. 

“How'd you get all this stuff in here?” Gwaine asked, leaning so close to a bowl that the tip of his nose practically touched it.

“I rented a van and just made a bunch of trips.”

Gwaine laughed and stood up straight.

“Why didn't you ask for help, dumdum?”

“I like doing things on my own.”

Merlin entered the crowded gallery.

“Wow,” he whispered, his body jostled against the wall. 

He'd never been to this particular gallery before. It was pretty standard, white walls, lots of space, hardwood floors. There seemed to be an outdoor smoking area blocked by a glass door. There was a string quartet playing quietly next to the bar. 

Merlin took off his coat and snuffled to himself, “Snob.” 

He checked his coat at the door. While standing and waiting for his ticket he realized the string quartet was playing the music of Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. Why was Arthur was so fucking cool?

He walked towards Gwaine and Percy, who smiled at him from across the room. A large man who smelled incredible bumped into him, his chest crunching Merlin's nose.

“Oh, you, hello,” Uther said, smiling down at Merlin. “I've been looking all over for you! I'll take a vodka tonic, thanks.” 

He slipped a twenty in Merlin's front pocket. Merlin watched the motion happen, a confused smile on his face. Arthur appeared beside his father.

“Merlin is not a waiter here,” he said tightly, pulling the twenty out of his pocket, his expression actually bridging on harried. He nodded at Merlin. “Sorry about that.”

“It's okay,” Merlin laughed. He held his arms out. “I came straight from Mikado and didn't have time to change. I look like a waiter.”

“Mikado!” Uther exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “That's where you have that fantastic red drink, yes?”

“Gin Rummy Tummy,” Merlin said, thoroughly enjoying Arthur's embarrassed shifting. “Yeah, that's one of ours.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Arthur whispered ever so softly. 

“Yes, the gin rummy tummy,” Uther said, nodding. He reached out, fingers zoning in on Arthur's collar. “Let me fix this.”

Arthur's face twitched and he jerked away. “Dad. No.” He held his hand in the way.

“It's just a little crooked.”

Arthur and Merlin's eyes met, and suddenly the blond felt five years old. He checked his feet to make sure he wasn't wearing those awful black buckle shoes his nanny always made him wear. They looked like Mary Janes for boys.

Merlin just smirked and moved on, leaving Uther to fuss with his baby boy.

 

**Saturday December 2**

Arthur rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. His feet poked out the side of his comforter. He could hear Gwen and Lance chatting in the kitchen, along with the sound of something frying. If he got up now he could probably get a little bacon and eggs from them.

He pawed for his cell on the bedside table. His thumb slid over the screen to unlock it. He scanned the texts waiting for him. People congratulated him on his show, complimenting his work and generally sucking his dick through a text.

Gwen's laugh tinkled through the bedroom door. Arthur tossed his phone back on the table and rolled onto his back. 

No, he thought. No. This is not how he was supposed to think or feel after a successful gallery opening.

“Fuck you,” he whispered aloud, directing the statement at Merlin (who was not present). He shook his head and held a pillow to his chest. “No, no, no.”

He reached for his phone again, dialed, and held it up to his ear. 

“Hello there, mister artiste,” Dr. Tristan said, smile beaming through the phone. “That was quite a shindig last night. What are you doing up so early?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Oh, erm,” there was the sound of papers shuffling in the background, “of course. Always, Arthur. Just give me a moment.”

Arthur propped his free hand behind his head. He studied his inner bicep, flexing then relaxing a few times. He mentally ran through the yoga studio schedule that day. 

“Alright,” the therapist's desk chair wheezed in the background, “what's up?”

“I just,” Arthur sighed, sitting up in bed. He crossed his ankles, his feet still sticking out from the covers. He ran a hand over his face. “This guy I go to school with. Merlin? I've mentioned him before.”

“Yes, you have,” Dr. Tristan said neutrally. “What about him?”

“Well, he put all these ridiculous ideas in my head,” Arthur said, gruff and crabby. “About having a significant other at a thing. You know. Like to have a girlfriend or whatever for a gallery exhibit or whatever.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I think that's ridiculous,” Arthur laughed. He shook his head as he spoke. “I don't want or need anyone in my life right now.”

“So what's the problem?”

“I don't even know. I just...” He studied the sunlight as it produced rainbows on his taupe carpet. He'd left a half filled glass of water on the windowsill. “I woke up today and, you know, I'm alone.” He extended his left leg to the side, as if to indicate to himself that he was alone in bed. “I had a thing last night, a big thing. My exhibit. And I just went home alone after everything was done.”

“And you feel annoyed for even thinking of what Merlin said?”

“Exactly. I don't care about that, or him, at all. But it's bothering me this morning.”

“Perhaps you don't care about what he said, but it resonated with you somehow. Maybe it's something you've thought in the past? Something you might feel in the future?”

Arthur listened to his therapist's soothing voice, rubbing his thumb over his palm. 

Slowly, he said, “That...Makes sense.”

“Do you want to set up an appointment next week? I can transfer you to Trudy.”

Arthur nodded, “Sure. I've got finals coming up--”

“Ah, there it is,” Dr. Tristan said warmly. He chuckled, Arthur's chest heaving with a sigh. “You're stressed.”

“I am.”

“Don't be, impossible as that may seem.”

“Alright.” Arthur swung his legs out of bed. He sank to his knees. “I'm going to stretch a bit and then relax the rest of the day.”

“You're doing excellent, Arthur,” Dr. Tristan said, pride warming his voice. “A year ago you wouldn't even verbalize what you just admitted to me; what you admitted to thinking. You've made wonderful progress.”

It felt silly to smile and say, “Thank you,” but that's just what Arthur did.

“Now, go get something greasy and a strong cup of coffee. That'll do you good!”

 

**Monday December 18**

Merlin studied the options in front of him. He could go for a cappuccino, but sometimes the library coffee machine made it so sweet he feared his teeth would fall out after the first sip. He could go latte, but sadly the machine made those bitter. He wiggled his fingers in the air, pressing a button for just a regular coffee, no milk.

He heard someone come into the lounge behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, Arthur's hair the first thing he saw. Arthur's hand was out, his pointer finger counting nickles and dimes while his mouth silently counted along. 

The wave of affection that crashed over Merlin was so debilitating that Arthur had to grunt to break him from his dreamy gaze. Arthur raised his eyebrows. Merlin looked back to the machine, his coffee waiting for him in its cheerful white plastic cup.

“Oh.” Merlin grabbed it carefully. He stepped aside and nodded to Arthur. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

Arthur stepped up to the machine, putting his coins in the slot. And that was the end of that.

 

**Tuesday December 19**

“What do you think?”

Arthur surveyed Lance's sketch, something he was waiting to submit for a final project. He ran his pointer finger along the front door.

“I think this needs more definition. A house of this stature needs a strong entrance.”

Lance hummed, plucking his pencil from behind his ear. He flipped the plan up, revealing the same home with a different, more elaborate entrance. He hunched over his sketch table.

“That's what Merlin said.”

Arthur stiffened.

“Oh.”

“You two have pretty similar taste in architecture, actually,” Lance said, the pencil between his teeth muffling his words. He spit it into his hand and softly muttered, “Shit, this measurement is off,” bending to scribble on the blue paper.

 

**Wednesday January 8**

“I love that we're all of age now and can just waltz into Brewer's without a care in the world.”

“Please, Gwaine,” Merlin laughed, his arm around the back of the booth. “Have you ever not waltzed into anywhere?”

“One time the Boat turned me away,” he admitted, gulping a mouthful of beer. “One of my darkest days.”

Arthur nibbled on a rosemary garlic fry. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

“Why?”

“Well, it was after Chelsea's warehouse party last year,” Gwaine explained while swirling his glass of beer. “And it was approximately five in the morning. And I was kind of wearing just a thong.”

Percy nearly spit his beer out of his nose he laughed so hard. Gwen and Lance arrived and slid into the booth next to Gwaine. Gwen reached across the table for Merlin's beer.

“Sorry, bad lesson, need alcohol immediately.”

Merlin smiled and pushed his beer towards Gwen.

“Have at it.” He rested his chin on his palm, his elbow balanced on the table. “What's wrong?”

“Well, my teacher decided that a month before my junior recital would be the perfect time to give me pages of things I was doing wrong.”

Merlin sighed, shaking his head.

“That's ridiculous. Why would she do that?”

“Who knows,” Gwen said glumly, gulping his beer again. She wrinkled her nose. “You drink such dark beer.” 

Gwaine felt that a game of 'Would you rather...' would bring up Gwen's mood.

Lance pointed to Arthur and asked, “Would you rather get fucked by Tom Hanks--” Arthur inhaled sharply. “--Or Brad Pitt?”

“Hanks,” Arthur answered, smiling at the shocked gasps of his table. “What? I love Tom Hanks. He's like my celebrity trump card in this game.”

“My turn!” Gwaine said, humming. “Hmm...Let's see.” He tapped his lip with his pointer finger. “Lance.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you rather suck on Professor Adam's toes,” the table groaned and gasped in horror, “or...You can rim Professor Gaius?”

“GOOD GOD!” Lance exclaimed, Merlin's hand over his mouth while he gagged. “What happened to you as a child?”

“You're a sick fuck, Gwaine,” Arthur stated, downing the remainder of his beer.

 

**Saturday February 17**

Thunderous applause filled the intimate concert hall, Gwen blushing prettily on stage as she bowed yet again. Lance ran up to the stage and thrust a bouquet of red roses at her, which only caused more blushing on Gwen's part.

“She was incredible,” Merlin said to Gwaine over the applause, grinning like a proud parent. Gwen's eyes landed on him and she smiled, relief lighting her face. “And she looks gorgeous. I just love her so much.”

“Yeah, Morgana did an incredible job.”

Merlin continued to clap, but he leaned closer to Gwaine. 

“What?”

“Morgana,” Gwaine repeated. “She surprised Gwen at her apartment a couple of hours before. Did her hair, makeup, the works.”

“Huh. How...Weird.”

The applause died down, people starting to filter out of the rows.

“Arthur sent her over with one of her friends,” Gwaine said, glancing over his shoulder. Percy smiled shyly at him. Gwaine bit his bottom lip. Fingertips softly brushed over his palm. He returned his attention to Merlin. “Apparently she's a spa guru of some sort. Took care of everything. Isn't that nice? He's a really nice guy, once you get to know him. Ooh, look, cheese and wine. Perce, there's cheese and wine...”

Merlin watched Arthur chat with Gwen, the potter brimming with excitement. Ah right, Merlin thought. He was a trained musician. This whole concert was probably right up his alley.

 

**Monday March 12**

Arthur ran as fast as he could from MIA to his apartment building. He waited until the elevator doors were closed before he ripped into a thick envelope. He pulled out a cover letter, eyes frantically scanning over the words. 

The elevator pinged. The doors opened to reveal his hallway. 

He stepped into the hall.

“What?” he whispered, shaking his head involuntarily.

He bumped into a wall while rereading. He rubbed his nose and walked backwards to his apartment, crunching a check in his hand.

“Fuck,” he said to the letter. “Why...” He sighed and fished his key out of his pocket. “This...”

The program in Peru had to discontinue due to money troubles. They refunded him his application fee. It was common among arts based programs, but Peru Pottery was an established company. This was a shock. This was heartbreaking.

He also had decided not to apply to any other summer programs. He loved Peru, he loved working there, he loved teaching kids how to throw pottery there, he loved how he felt after his trip. It would be nearly impossible to get into a program for pottery at this point. 

Sure, plenty of people at MIA didn't bother with summer at all. They spent it traveling the globe and taking vacations. Or they stuck around Baltimore to work. Maybe he'd be forced to do that this summer. It didn't bode well for employment after college, but he'd make due. 

 

**Tuesday March 13**

“Hey, Merlin! How's it going?”

Merlin smiled and shifted from foot to foot, running his hand through his hair. He'd been doing that more lately, since his hair had grown back in.

“Fine, fine, all is well.”

Lance stepped back, holding his arm out.

“C'mon in.” His eyes danced excitedly. “Wanna play Madden?”

Merlin laughed.

“Uh, maybe later.” His gaze darted over Lance's shoulder before settling back on his warm face. “Is, um, are you home alone?”

Lance's smiled never faltered, but his nose wrinkled in confusion. Merlin didn't usually visit to spend time with the man he refused to speak to.

“No, Arthur's in his room. Why?”

“Just,” Merlin shoved his thumb underneath his messenger bag strap, “can I talk to him? It's a school, uh, thing.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Lance nodded, a bit guarded. He smiled nonetheless. He nudged his chin to the left. “His room is in the back.”

“Cool.”

Merlin smiled tightly and stepped past Lance, who would likely text Gwen to be sure Merlin had not suffered a brain injury in the last couple of hours. 

He stood outside a closed door. His knuckles brushed against the wood, stomach fluttering with the strangest sort of nerves. He knocked gently.

No response.

Merlin swallowed and knocked again. 

When there was still no response he sighed, hand wrapped around the knob. He turned and pushed. The door opened quietly into the dim room. It was silent, save for soft breathing muffled by fabric. The room was stuffy and warm. Merlin squinted and stuck his face in just a bit.

“Arthur?”

There was a slow groan from under the covers. An elegant foot stuck out the side of the comforter, long toes wiggling slightly.

“What?” Arthur said into his pillow. “Hm?

While the blond struggled to flip over, Merlin marched up to the bed.

“Where were you?”

Arthur blinked sleepily at him, sitting up in his bed. His face looked to soft and confused that Merlin nearly curled up in bed beside him.

“Merlin?” he croaked.

“Yeah, it's me,” Merlin said quickly. “Where were you?” His eyes darted to the balled tissues that littered Arthur's bed. A bottle of lotion was propped on the bedside table. As an offhand comment he breathed, “Gross.” Arthur struggled with the baggy hood of his red sweat shirt, the fabric twisted halfway around his face. He pushed the tissues aside with shaky hands. “You missed Gender Studies today.”

“I know.” Arthur's face winced, his eyes twitching shut and his lips curled downwards. “Do you think I'm going to be way behind?”

“No, of course not,” Merlin said, flippant with a flick of his hand in the air. “You're already so far ahead. You'll be fine.” Arthur's expression lightened until Merlin crossed his arms over his chest, his hip quirked to the left. “But where were you? I didn't see you on campus all day. Then I come here and what,” he took in Arthur's large bed, his white comforter loose around his shifting body, “you're taking a fucking nap?” 

“I missed all my classes today,” Arthur said, face sagging even further down. He sunk into the bundle of sheets. He pulled the comforter higher towards his chin. He looked down at the bed. “I'm sick.”

“Oh.” 

His brain connected the dots, from the tissues to Arthur's grey complexion to his scratchy voice. 

“I'm...” Merlin stepped away from the bed, gripping his bag strap. He gulped. “I'm sorry to have burst in like this. And...” He and Arthur caught eyes. “And that you're sick.” Arthur nodded while tugging gently on the strings of his hoodie. Softer, Merlin admitted, “It was weird not to have you there. You've never missed class.”

Arthur sat up a bit and lowered his hood. He ruffled his own hair, sweat matting it to his head. It stuck up fluffy on the right side of his head.

“I've had a fever. I can't stand the hot and cold and hot and cold,” he grumbled. He pulled the shirt over his head, his bare torso revealed with each jerky motion. His stomach muscles flexed with effort. His voice was muffled by thick fabric to ask, “Was there any homework?”

Merlin couldn't remember seeing the downy covering of light blond hair on Arthur's pecs the last time they were shirtless in each other's presence.

“A little.” Merlin snapped back to attention. He willed his eyes away from Arthur's small belly button. “Just look at the blackboard online. It's a reading and response assignment.”

“Ha.” Arthur pulled the shirt fully over his head and tossed it to the floor. He ruffled his hair again. Merlin licked his bottom lip then bit it, taking a step away from the bed. Arthur had gotten a bit leaner since sophomore year, but still had arms like a GI Joe. “I'm sure the responses will be entertaining as usual.”

“Yeah,” Merlin chuckled softly on reflex. “Chelsea's response will likely make me spit coffee out while reading it again.”

Arthur's tiny belly button jiggled in the soft looking layer of pudge that stretched over his otherwise flat stomach. Merlin's brows furrowed until he connected the sound of his gruff, sore throat laughter with the shaking of his body. 

“What's with the look?”

Merlin looked away from his stomach, Arthur now resting on his pillows with his hands behind his head. He had a confused, curious look, his eyes narrowed as much as they could be in their puffy, tired state.

“Nothing,” Merlin said. He took another step away from the bed. “Nothing. Just...I have to go.”

“Oh my God,” Arthur drawled, smiling wider with each word. He looked from Merlin to his bare torso, then back to Merlin again with that insufferable grin. “You were totally perving on me.”

“In your dreams,” Merlin laughed, though there was a nervous shake to his voice. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just thinking of something I have to do.”

“Like masturbate to my perfect image?”

“No,” he snapped. A laugh escaped before he could control it, Arthur chuckling in the background. He cleared his throat, standing up a bit straighter. His face glowed with mischief, lips twitching into a smirk. “Though apparently I've just been to your jerk off station.” He flicked his eyes to the bottle of Jergins, Arthur following his sightline. “Very classy brand choice, by the way. Only the best!”

“Hey, that's not what that is!” Arthur insisted. Merlin's amused smirk only made him huff. He opened his bedside table and pushed the lotion into the draw, shutting it quickly. He resumed his reclined position, hands back behind his head. “For your information, I'm a cellist and a potter.” 

“What lovely hobby choices. And your actual career?”

Arthur's fever spiked again. The blond's arm muscles rounded, his hands fisting behind his head. 

“I need to take care of my hands,” he explained as if speaking to a slow child.

“Hmm, right.” Merlin backed away from the bed. He motioned the international sign for jerking off, his fist swaying in the air. “Whatever you say.”

“You were totally checking me out,” Arthur said as loud as he could, his voice rasping painfully. He winced, one hand flying to his throat. He scowled at Merlin. “Admit it!”

“Please,” Merlin laughed from the door. “I can smell your sweaty armpits from here. No fucking thanks.”

“Oh, shut up,” Arthur growled, pulling his arms down and jerking the duvet up to his chin. “I'm sick. Who comes to someone's apartment to pester them while they're sick?”

Merlin sang, “Get well soon,” and waved over his shoulder.

Arthur huffed and turned onto his stomach. He fell into a fitful sleep, his fever breaking while he tossed and turned. 

He woke up disoriented. He checked his cell for any urgent messages. Morgana had texted him multiple times to check on him; he was notorious in his family for being a terrible patient. His father sent him a musical e-card that featured a singing band-aid. He received replies from each teacher he saw on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, all urging him to get well soon and take a couple of days off. 

He tossed his phone on his bed and passed out again, this time in a much calmer way. When he woke up, he felt better. Sweaty, but better. 

He took a cold shower and changed into fresh clothes. A cup of tea was in order, and maybe a snack. 

“Hey, man, feeling better?” Lance said, plans spread out all over the kitchen table.

Arthur hummed, rubbing the front of his throat. 

“A little bit, yeah.” He placed his hand on the table and tilted his head, studying the plans. “Thanks for asking.”

“Merlin left that for you.” 

Arthur followed the line of Lance's pointed pencil. He frowned and stood up straight, shuffling to the small plastic bag perched on their kitchen counter.

“What is it?”

“Smells like soup.” Lance turned away from the table, muttering, “Shit, where's that other note?”

The architect jogged to his room. Arthur opened the white plastic bag and saw that it was indeed a styrofoam cup of vegetable soup, fresh from the MIA cafeteria.

“What a nutcase,” he said, smiling deliriously. Who smiles at a cup of soup? “A total weirdo.”

 

**Monday April 3**

Gaius led the applause at the final student exhibit for the junior class. Merlin applauded, but couldn't stop staring at Arthur's delicate cups he offered for the last exhibit. Arthur tilted his cell phone discreetly while the class was distracted, snapping a silent photo of Merlin's painting of waterlilies. 

“I know this is a stressful time,” Gaius said as the clapping died down. “Finals. Juries for some of you.” His eyes lingered on a student here or there. “Big decisions to be made and work to do. But I advise you all to just keep your heads down and do your best.”

The students applauded again, filtering out of the gallery. Gaius slung his arms around Arthur and Merlin's shoulders as they walked.

“There's been a bit of a switch up this year, boys.”

The potter and painter looked confused. Gaius' eyes twinkled, his voice lowering to share a secret.

“It seems that your ranks have switched,” he whispered, looking from boy to boy. “Young Pendragon has you beat by a tenth of a point, Merlin.” He winked at them, Arthur settling into a pleased smile while Merlin blushed and smiled politely. “You'll have to keep that between us. Though it will all come out in due time.” He squeezed their shoulders. “I'd check your mailboxes tomorrow.” 

 

**Tuesday April 4**

With such a mysterious build up, Arthur and Merlin had no idea what to expect in their mailboxes the next day. They both tried to remain calm while picking up their mail. Arthur didn't remove his sunglasses; Merlin seemed more enamored with his iced coffee. But both received an invitation to a dinner in two weeks time.

“Ooh,” a student cooed nearby. Merlin glanced in their direction. Ronald White, he thought. Graphic arts major who was also very sharp. Ronald smiled at Merlin. “Last year: Brunch. This year: Dinner.”

. . .

**Thursday April 27**

The Boat was packed with MIA and Bilt students, all drowning their final and jury woes in beer and greasy food.

“I cannot believe that I'm finished with finals,” Arthur said, his voice raspy. Merlin glanced at him across their normal table in the back right corner. Arthur sat down in an empty seat and grabbed a menu from the center console. Lance poured beer into an empty glass and slid it in front of Arthur, too exhausted to talk. The potter laughed a light little giggle to himself. “I'm losing my mind.”

“Why?” Gwaine yawned with his arms stretched over his head.

“Because I'm reading this menu, a menu I've read a million times, and I'm thrilled to be reading something, anything, other than school shit.”

Gwaine gulped a mouthful of beer. He swallowed and pouted, “Lucky duck. Damn me and my late start and my magical major.” He took another drink. “And writer's block.”

Percy squeezed Gwaine's shoulders, thumbs massaging down to his shoulder blades. Gwaine's lips formed a perfect circle, his eyes falling shut. 

“Fuck, that's good, Perce.”

Gwen's body appeared from nowhere.

“I'm done!” she squealed in Lance's face, straddling his thighs. Lance laughed, but before he could say anything Gwen held his cheeks and pressed a loud kiss to his lips. “I'm done with atonal music theory! Forever!!”

The rare moment of PDA between Gwen and Lance made their friends laugh, drawing a few whistles from nearby tables.

Merlin giggled, “Aww, how touching.”

“Looks like you're gonna need earplugs tonight,” Gwaine said to Arthur, winking.

Arthur laughed and dropped the menu, propping his hands behind his head. The short sleeves of his red tee rode up his inner biceps. Merlin studied a menu harder than any material he'd reviewed for finals.

“I'll just throw a little Schoenberg on,” Arthur drawled. “Immediate boner kill.”

Gwen laughed into Lance's mouth at the thought of having sex to Pierrot Lunaire.

The waitress made her way over. Orders were blurted out. Gwaine changed his order twice before settling on his usual well-done bacon burger with swiss cheese, slathered in ranch dressing. 

“Did you note that, Annie? Slathered in ranch dressing?”

The waitress laughed and turned her order pad towards him. He smiled proudly upon seeing his name, order, and 'slathered in ranch dressing' written in all caps.

Merlin, the last person to order, opened his mouth, but she just laughed and took her pad back from Gwaine.

“I don't even have to ask what you want!” She pointed her pen at Merlin. “I'll bring you your normal fish and chips, sound good?”

“Actually, I was thinking of changing my order.”

“Oh?”

“I'll take a burger, medium rare, with cheddar, extra pickles, and ketchup.” He replaced the menu in the center of the table. “Please.”

The table gaped at him in unison. Annie's pen didn't move on the pad. Merlin perked up with a smile.

“Oh, and bacon on there too, please. Extra crispy.”

When he realized everyone was staring at him he flushed. Even Gwen and Lance had stopped kissing. He laughed and sat back in his chair.

“What?”

“Since when do you like meat?” Annie asked, speaking the thoughts of the entire table.

“Um, I've just been working it in whenever the feeling struck me.” Merlin refused to look towards Arthur, who had no problem staring curiously at Merlin. “If I had a craving for it.”

 

**Friday May 5**

Gaius took the small stage at the head of the banquet room. He gently tapped a slender microphone sticking out from a black podium. 

“I've been instructed to encourage you all to return to your seats and begin my remarks, to ensure a timely distribution of dessert,” he said, the audience laughing loudly. “And I don't know about you all, but I'm quite partial to dessert.”

As the crowd returned to their tables, Gaius pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his grey jacket. He pushed his glasses up on his nose.

“Thank you all for coming to tonight's dinner,” he began. “It is with generous support from the MIA Alumni Association that...”

Merlin shifted in his seat, tuning out Gaius' speech. He'd made the mistake of drying his black dress pants on high heat. It took them from fashionably tight to potentially scandalous.

“I can't wait to go home and take my pants off,” he whispered over his shoulder.

“Ooh la la,” Gwaine, Merlin's plus one for the dinner, whispered back. Merlin could hear fabric shifting. “But I agree. I hate wearing a tie.”

“Next year, students will be submitting works for their final jury, which is to be held at an off campus gallery. These juries will be judged by the entire faculty to decide who will have the honor of graduation.” 

That got back the attention of the students. Gaius adjusted his glasses, smiling ever so slightly under the glare of a spotlight. He refocused on his prepared remarks. 

“Along with graduation, a number of awards will be distributed to worthy artists in the graduating class. As the chairman of our faculty committee, it is my honor to nominate the following students for The Cubie Prizes, which are a collection of grants given to the most promising graduate in each concentration.”

The students all tittered as Gaius went through each category. Merlin flushed when his name was called among the nominees for painting. Gwen gripped Lance's hand when architecture was announced. Arthur smirked and sipped his water when his name was thrown in for ceramics.

A few more boring award nominees were announced, Arthur and Merlin's names called multiple times. Arthur eyed Merlin's profile from across the room. Numerically, Merlin would probably take back the top GPA award if he had his full focus for senior year. Though, honestly, who cares about GPAs?

“Finally, our highest undergraduate honor: The Rockefeller Prize for Artistic Excellence. The winner will be awarded a grant totaling $10,000, along with a featured exhibit in the Baltimore Museum of Art. And the nominees are, in no particular order,” he cleared his throat, “Arthur Pendragon, ceramics,” there was a round of applause, along with a few vulgar whistles, “Anna Chui, fashion design,” more applause, “Ronald White, graphic design,” there was a hoot from the back of the room, “and Merlin Emrys, painting.”

“Yeah baby,” Gwaine said loudly, shaking both of Merlin's shoulders as he laughed, applause breaking out around them.

. . .

Warehouse parties slowed down in colder weather, but summer vacation had officially started. Baltimore humidity hung in the air at any hour of the day, with no let up even at night. It seemed only appropriate that the last party of junior year was a warehouse party thrown by a recent graduate. 

“This isn't our classiest pre-game.”

“Don't care,” Merlin said.

He downed a mini bottle of tequila Gwaine had purchased at Steps. He grunted and wiped his hand over his lips. The first couple were rough, but the more shots he took the warmer he felt. He tossed the bottle into a garbage can as they walked, Gwaine sucking on a mini vodka bottle.

“One more?” Gwaine asked, handing Merlin a mini gin.

“Gin always makes me black out,” Merlin said, taking the bottle. 

“Oh, right.” Gwaine rifled through the black plastic bag. “I think I've got another vodka in here, if you want it.”

Merlin popped the top off and brought it to his lips.

“This has been the hardest year of my life, and I need to get fucked up.” He swallowed a mouthful, wincing. His voice was rough to add, “And fucked. Before I go back to Portland.”

Gwaine laughed and patted Merlin's ass.

“I don't think you have to worry about either of those things at this party.”

They tossed the rest of the empty bottles into a trash can and walked up to Percy's apartment.

“Get down here, you mountain of man meat,” Gwaine hollered through cupped hands. “Let's see those legs!”

The door to Percy's building opened, Percy laughing and walking down the stoop. His strong thighs rippled and were on full display in his black boxer briefs.

“Very subtle,” he said, pecking Gwaine's lips. He smiled at Merlin, who was the sole person he and Gwaine felt comfortable being physical around. “Hey, congrats on your nominations.” He smiled and squirmed, Gwaine nibbling on his neck. “That's awesome.”

“Thanks, man.” Merlin pointed between them. “We're twins tonight.” His brow wrinkled. “I should have done more squats. Your thighs are light tree trunks.”

Gwaine gleefully crowed, “Fuck yes, they are!”

The no pants party was being held at a hidden venue, the location of which was texted at eleven-eleven at night. It was a lovely surprise that the warehouse was only about a fifteen minute walk from MIA. It also was in an area that would probably have cabs nearby, incase one needed to take a cab home.

They got to the warehouse and walked inside. There were black lights on, with neon green arrows pointed on the walls. They followed the arrows and pulse of house music. A row of bottomless students stood in line, waiting to pay the $10 cover. Some were creative, wearing bathing suit bottoms or robes or skirts. Others were straight up bare on the bottom, which was both brave and slightly disgusting. Merlin liked dick, but he didn't need to see the dick of the work study student who deals with his transcript in the registrar's office.

“I've got this for us three,” Gwaine said, pulling two twenties out of the front of his bright pink boxers. He smiled brightly at the man at the door and handed them over, the man eyeing his junk money. “Thanks, man!” He patted the bouncer on his shoulder. “Keep the change and have a great night!”

They walked in to find the warehouse packed with students, seemingly from every school in the state of Maryland. There were law students from University of Baltimore, musicians from Bilt, med students from Hopkins, and an abundance of artists from MIA. Strobe lights pulsed and movies were projected on the bare walls, a mix of Ghostbusters, hardcore pornography, and the scary movie IT.

Merlin threw himself into the mosh pit of dancing, jumping around with his hands over his head until sweat dripped down his neck, pooling on his collarbones. Phantom hands slid over his body. His white short sleeved shirt was unbuttoned to mid-chest, the fabric brushing halfway down his thighs. 

Gwaine checked in on him with a drunk smile, pecking Merlin's forehead. The friends danced together for a song.

“Gwen and Lance are here,” Gwaine shouted over the music, pointing to the entrance and still pogo-ing up and down. “Arthur, too.”

Merlin waved happily at them, grinding backwards against what felt like a woman. He sipped his vodka cranberry, which was more like a vodka vodka. He swallowed the rest down and tossed the cup on the floor.

“Merlin!”

He turned around in shock. He gasped a laugh.

“Mordred!” He pulled his roommate into a tight hug, sweat melding between them. Mordred was wearing just white briefs, no shirt. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Mordred sucked a kiss to Merlin's neck, swaying their bodies together along with the music.

“I'm in town for a conference and I heard about this. Had to come by!”

“Nice,” Merlin laughed, holding Mordred's cheeks. “Are you at the apartment tonight?”

“Nah, I'm staying with my girlfriend.”

His roommate reached behind himself and wrapped his arm around a stunning woman's shoulders. She molded to Mordred's side, smiling shyly at Merlin. She had straight black hair down to her lower back, her skin golden tan and on full display. In the theme of no pants, she was wearing nothing but tiny white boy shorts and a white men's undershirt. Merlin tried not to stare at her dark nipples through the thin shirt, but he'd always had a thing for small, perfect tits, even when he realized he liked men.

“This is Sunbeam,” Mordred said, grinning drunkenly.

“Nice to meet you,” Merlin smiled as he shook her delicate hand, “I'm Merlin.”

Sunbeam whispered something in Mordred's ear, eyes lingering on Merlin's face.

“She thinks you're cute,” Mordred said, starting to grind behind Sunbeam. She pressed herself closer to Merlin. “Want to have a threeway with us?”

Merlin blinked at the gorgeous girl and his sometimes roommate. 

“Sure,” he laughed. He trusted Mordred, who trusted Sunbeam. It would be a neat little package of sex. “Why the hell not, yeah?”

Sunbeam shouted in his ear, “I've got some E, you want in?”

“No, thanks,” Merlin said, laughing into long dark hair. Sunbeam pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her fingers stroking low on his stomach. “I'll stick with the sex, though.”

. . .

Arthur wasn't one to pick up strangers for sex, but the end of the year called for a celebration. He found that celebration in the mouth of a skinny brunet cellist from the Bilt, whose name was never mentioned. Somewhere in Arthur's brain he named the brunet Cello, and even moaned, “Cello,” against his sweet sweaty neck.

He also didn't usually hook up with men in public, but that apparently was happening that night as well. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his sexual relationships with men. He just preferred to keep certain things about himself private. 

The young cellist never got that memo, and happily sucked on Arthur's lips as they ground together on the dance floor, their boxer briefs leaving little to the imagination.

“Fucking fuck, you're gorgeous,” Cello said, pushing Arthur's shirt up his muscles stomach.

Arthur lifted his arms. His sweat soaked red tee was pulled over his head. He couldn't remember where his shoes went. Cello tossed his damp black t-shirt to the ground and Arthur stifled a sigh. Cello was hairless from pits to chest; not exactly Arthur's type. Then Cello started to kiss and grope again, and Arthur forgot about his slight body hair fetish.

“You've got incredible rhythm,” Cello said between kisses, his hands slipping down the front of Arthur's pants. He smiled. “Fuck me?”

Arthur laughed and pushed his hand out. He didn't mind a public makeout, or a public dry hump, but he had no desire to expose himself to his entire class. He tilted his head off the dance floor, Cello gripping his hand and allowing himself to be led away.

They stumbled upon a rather crowded room, bodies writhing together on a floor covered in pillows. There was a particularly involved group of three, centered around a tanned woman with the perkiest tits Arthur had ever seen. Strobe lights and black lights battled to see who could be the more distracting, a speaker vibrating against the floor of the room with booming music.

Arthur gently shoved the bare center of Cello's chest, smiling mischievously. Cello laid down on a bunch of pillows and pulled Arthur down by the waistband of his black boxerbriefs.

They started to kiss again, hot air building from their exhalations and the thrumming of bodies around them. 

A high pitched scream keened nearby, Arthur's eyes opening. He watched the tanned tit woman arch her back and shudder, her legs tightening around whoever was fucking her like a piston. Arthur tilted his head while Cello started to jerk him off. A familiar face fell to rest between her tits, a goofy smile stretched across his sweating, spent face.

“Merlin?” Arthur said aloud, Cello's mouth swallowing him whole. The potter groaned and looked away from Merlin's bare ass, focusing on Cello. “Fuck yes, that's fucking good.”

. . .

“I haven't had sex with a woman since freshman year,” Merlin giggled deliriously, rolling the condom off his softening cock. He held it in his hand, still breathing quickly. He half fell asleep, Mordred's lips kissing light and soft behind his ears. “Jesus Christ.”

“Was good, baby,” Sunbeam panted on her back, her legs wilting from around him. She kissed his neck and patted his ass. “Really fucking good.”

Mordred nudged her thigh from next to them, his dick slick and straining and dark in his hand. His eyes were hungry, wanting, totally focused between Sunbeam's legs.

“Fuck, it turns me on to watch you get fucked,” he whispered grittily, pulling Sunbeam to himself in their own pile of pillows. He spread her legs with his hands, bringing his mouth to the center of her body. “Tell me about him, Sun. Tell me how he was.”

Merlin heard Sunbeam's now familiar high pitched moan and opened his eyes, watching Mordred tongue her with his fingers pressing inside.

“Lucky girl,” he giggled to himself, closing his eyes again. A remix of Jackie will Save Me by Shiny Toy Guns blared through the speakers. Someone had started to suck his dick. He opened his eyes, saw Ronald White's lips wrapped around his cock, and closed his legs. “Give me a sec, Ron.”

He rolled onto his stomach, the pillow under his head stinking of sweat and sex. He panted, watching the couples around him. Sunbeam had climbed on top of Mordred and was bouncing furiously. He looked for a garbage, then just shrugged and tucked the used condom between a pillow and the wall. 

Merlin giggled loudly and squirmed.

“Fuck, Ronald, what the fuck are you doing!?”

He laughed again, Ronald's tongue settling in the crux of his ass. Merlin laughed and turned onto his back, his bare foot accidentally kicking Cello in the head.

“No ass play with strangers,” Merlin laughed, waving his finger at Ronald, who just smirked and started to suck on his hipbones. “Mm,” he hummed, propped his hands behind his head, “that's more like it.”

He looked to his left and smiled, watching Mordred and Sunbeam bounce and scream. He looked to his right and just blinked.

Arthur felt someone looking at him and turned his head.

Merlin's full, kiss-stung mouth opened while he breathed quickly, his gaze darting from Arthur's lips to his eyes. He settled on Arthur's mouth, the blond's tongue running over his bottom lip. Arthur groaned louder than ever and bit his bottom lip, thrusting his dick into Cello's wet lips. His eyes burned down Merlin's bare throat and chest, to his stomach and the dark hair that led to--

Arthur gulped and turned his head away, his eyes tightly shut. Someone's hand landed on his chest, sliding up to stroke his neck. Long fingers laced in his hair, gently pulling his face back. He turned his head, Merlin's lush mouth opening on top of his own.

He felt Merlin groan against his lips, his fingers clenching on his bare stomach. Arthur's body lit up, his skin on fire and his heart pounding. It should have been from Cello, who was doing his best to keep Arthur's attention by sucking his insides out his dick. Instead, Arthur turned onto his side, Merlin's arms wrapping around his back. The weight of Merlin's body settled on his middle, their lips opening together for a tongue heavy massage. 

Merlin's voice might have murmured, “How does someone even get a body like this?” over the pounding music.

Arthur started laughing with Merlin sucking on his lips and his hands greedily running over every inch of his chest. He laughed so hard that Cello pulled his mouth off, staring angrily up at the hysterical blond.

“Holy fuck,” Merlin said, his voice more coherent.

Arthur opened his teary eyes and kissed Merlin's neck, pulling him closer. Merlin's body jerked away.

“What?” Arthur asked. He followed Merlin's sight line. He pulled his legs up to his chest. “Jesus Christ.”

Merlin had already gotten up from bed, his bare ass quickly covered by his boxer briefs. He glanced behind himself and saw Arthur doing the same.

They both left the orgy room, their bare shoulders bumping together.

“Are they fucking insane?” Merlin yelled over the music, shaking his head. “Who the fuck does that so open like that?”

Arthur just walked with his hands in his sweaty hair, his bare feet sticking to the liquor soaked floor. Drugs were an unfortunate dark side in life. In Baltimore, and MIA in particular, people seemed to dabble a bit more with the heavy shit. Noticing people lighting up during a party didn't warrant the bat of an eyelash. But noticing people actually shooting up about a foot away from your bare ass was definitely a shock to the system.

“Hey, hey,” Gwaine said, snagging Merlin's forearm. He tugged urgently. “We should get the fuck out.” His eyes were wide, darting around the room. Things are getting fucking weird, man.”

Merlin nodded, Arthur standing next to him with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Cabs?” the blond asked. 

“Sounds good,” Percy said, appearing behind Gwaine. “Let's get outside. Gwen and Lance left already when someone tried to steal Lance's wallet.”

Merlin followed his friends (and Arthur) down the hallway, the throb of strobe lights fading to glowing green arrows. They walked in silence until humidity hit their faces. Arthur stepped to the curb and held his arm out, cars whizzing by. He didn't seem bothered that he was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. His ass looked round and plump bathed in sweat and moonlight.

A quick glance around told him that all of his friends were literally standing on the street in their underwear. Merlin looked down at himself and gasped. He had left his shirt inside in the orgy room and was among the nearly naked, wearing only his underwear and black flip flops (which he didn't wear in to the party...).

Merlin walked up to Arthur and quietly said, “You don't have shoes.”

Arthur looked down at his feet and snorted.

“Yikes.” 

Merlin's nose picked up on the smell of Arthur's drying sweat, the potter still standing with his arm raised on the street. Merlin wrinkled his nose and stepped away with his hand over his crotch. The orgy was still running through his blood stream, his dick not ready to behave. It was a horrible time for that, seeing as he was wearing just underwear.

A yellow van pulled up to the curb. The driver unlocked the doors, too distracted by the conversation he was having on his earpiece to notice his bare clients. 

“Merlin, hey! Can we come in?”

Merlin looked over his shoulder and saw Mordred running towards their cab, Sunbeam holding his hand. Gwaine burst out laughing.

“Shit, Mordred, where the fuck did you come from?”

In the three seconds it took for Gwaine to ask that question, ten more of their classmates burst out the door and spotted the empty cab. Arthur gripped Merlin's hand.

“C'mon,” he muttered, wrapping his arm around Gwaine's lower back. “Mordred, you and Sunshine can come in.”

“It's Sunbeam,” she corrected, tipsy on her bare feet.

“Does it matter?” Arthur whispered to himself, Merlin snickering against his broad shoulder.

“Merlin's tiny, he can sit on top of someone,” Gwaine said, pushing Percy into the cab. He wiggled his eyebrows. “Or I could sit on your, Perce.” 

“Um, I'll just sit in the front,” Percy said with bright red cheeks. “Big shoulders and all.”

He tried to open the passenger seat and found the door was locked. The driver was storing a newspaper collection on the seat. Two fashion design girls slipped into the cab, cutting Percy.

“No, wait, Perce,” Gwaine reached out, pulling his large body into the van door. He sighed at the group of girls, who were loud and drunk and taking up prime Percy seating area. “You're getting in.”

Percy climbed into the cab, eying the unavailable seats. Merlin looked around the cab and bit his bottom lip, the heat of Arthur's body pleasantly warm against his bare side.

“I'll, um--”

“Get on top of Arthur,” Gwaine said, making big eyes at Merlin. “I know you two have had your issues--”

“It's fine,” Merlin interrupted, squirming onto Arthur's lap.

“Um,” Arthur lifted his hands in the air, “was anyone going to consult me about this?”

Merlin looked over his shoulder, hissing, “Are you seriously getting huffy about this? It's, like, a seven minute ride.”

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Gwaine's voice laughed from the seat in front of them.

Arthur's face screwed up, his lips tightly clenched together. He just rolled his eyes at the ceiling, his neck throbbing. He shifted his hips and spread his legs a little, Merlin's ass pressed firmly against his crotch.

Merlin settled on top of Arthur. It wasn't horrible to have a back full of muscles. He noticed Arthur's finger rhythmically tapping the car seat on either side of his thighs. He had the lightest dusting of blond hair on his thighs. He wondered if the blond hair went all the way up to underneath his--

The cab bounced.

Merlin gulped and stared out the window.

Arthur focused on studying the dirty cab ceiling. Every time the car jumped or Merlin moved, even when Merlin breathed, he felt like he was on the brink of popping a boner against his least favorite student's annoying ass.

“Can you drop us in Fells?” a female voice asked.

Arthur and Merlin looked to her. She wasn't an MIA student, so where did she come from?

“We're going to Mount Vernon,” the driver said. His dark eyes flashed in the rearview mirror. “And it's ten bucks a person. No questions.”

The group of sweaty students grumbled on cue.

“Can you at least turn the air on?” Gwaine asked. “It smells like a foot in here.”

“Air is broken.”

There was another round of groaning. They hit some traffic, the car slowing to a halt. Mordred and Sunbeam started to make out in the seat next to Merlin and Arthur, the back becoming even hotter. 

Merlin swallowed again. A bead of sweat dripped from his hairline, tickling the back of his neck. He could feel Arthur's chest sweating, his skin sticking on his back.

He tilted his head ever so slightly and lifted his hand, brushing the sweat away.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, so soft that only Arthur could hear him.

Arthur dropped his gaze from the ceiling. He studied Merlin's neck, which was a poor idea. Sweat and skin and promised sweetness. He bit his bottom lip, nodding tightly.

“I'm fine. Hot.”

“Yeah.”

They both tried to find something to focus on in the van. Arthur's fingers were tapping an even faster rhythm. 

“Can I...”

Merlin had no idea what Arthur was going to ask, but he nodded. 

Arthur's arms wrapped around Merlin's waist. His hands draped on top of Merlin's thighs, his thumbs linked together.

“Hands are antsy,” he explained.

“It's fine.”

The car started to move slowly. The traffic jam came into view; a hydrant cover had come off, causing a flood in the middle of the road.

“So,” Arthur said, his thighs flexing under Merlin, “what are your summer plans?”

Merlin laughed, which only caused him to bounce. Arthur whimpered near his ear, his head dropping back on the seat. Merlin's eyes widened. He blinked and shifted his ass, Arthur breathing faster.

“Are you--”

“Just stop moving,” Arthur blurted out on one hot breath. He swallowed audibly, Merlin watching his throat bob. “Please.”

When Arthur lifted his head he could see Merlin smirking, his hand over his mouth. Arthur tightened his arms.

“What's with the smile?”

“Nothing,” Merlin said, giggling softly. 

“You're such a pain in the ass.”

“You're causing a pain in my ass,” Merlin said, complete with a grind into Arthur's crotch.

“Stop it,” Arthur said tightly.

Mordred moaned next to them amidst wet sucking sounds, Merlin laughing again. Fuck him and his vibrating butt when he laughed, Arthur thought.

Arthur checked out the window; they should be back in their neighborhood in just about a minute. His eyes drank in the pale curve of Merlin's neck, his nose full of his boyish shampoo smell. 

It was just about a year ago that he first got a whiff of that smell. Would this be their yearly tradition? To get in an awkward makeout session before ignoring each other for another year? 

Merlin continued to squirm, his smile still mischievous.

“You little fuck,” Arthur whispered in his ear, low and quiet. He let his lips brush the shell of his ear. 

Merlin's smile dropped, his head quirking. He opened his mouth to ask, “Excuse me?” but the words did not come out. His eyes fluttered shut, Arthur sucking slowly behind his ear.

His lips pursed to whisper, “Wh...Wh...”

Arthur's hand flattened on his right inner thigh. Merlin's wide eyes watched his fingers lightly stroke from his knee to the fabric of his boxer briefs. 

“It all makes sense, now,” Arthur said. Merlin leaned back, thoroughly enjoying the slide of Arthur's slick skin against his own. “I should have realized.”

“What?”

“You want me,” Arthur chuckled.

Merlin's body jerked away.

“No, I don't.”

“It's okay, Merlin. Just admit it.”

“I don't,” Merlin insisted. He glared over his shoulder. “God, you're full of yourself.” His eyes narrowed. “You're the one who started pawing me just now.”

“And you're the one who rolled onto me at the party,” Arthur countered. “Wiggling on top of me.” He bit his bottom lip and jutted his hips up for just a tiny thrust. “Feeling me.”

“Oh, God, I can't believe I'm hearing this,” Merlin said, toppling off of Arthur. “Sunbeam, please move over.” He squished between Sunbeam's bare ass and Arthur's thigh. He crossed his arms over his chest, his leg still resting on Arthur's thigh. “I can't stand sitting on this beast any longer.”

“Don't even talk to me,” Arthur said, his arms also crossed over his chest.

“With pleasure,” Merlin laughed.

And that was the end of junior year.


	3. Senior Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The (long) end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khaleesi - A character from Game of Thrones who is the wife of a very powerful warrior, kind of a queen.
> 
> The Helmand - An actual Afghan restaurant in Baltimore that is delicious. A few other places (Kumari, Donna's, City Cafe) are also real (and delicious, too). Steps is based on a liquor store I frequented in college.

## 

Summer between Junior and Senior year

**Friday June 2**

“Can't you stick around a few—Oh, you sneaky dickbag!--more days?”

“I've already been here almost a month. I'll be back after—After--” Merlin growled and jutted his elbow in the air. “My fucking thumb is going to fall off, you fucking jizz face.”

“Fucking jizz face,” Will repeated with a laugh. His socked foot kicked at Merlin's shin when Merlin's car crossed the finish line first. “Is that what your fancy pants art school is getting you?”

“Fuck off,” Merlin giggled. “I love Yoshi. He's the best.” He crossed his ankles and sipped his iced tea, his knees peeking out the bottom of his soft plaid board shorts. “I didn't know dickbag was part of the terminology at MIT?”

“MIT, MIA; same shit, different day.”

 

**Saturday June 24**

Gwen sipped her cappuccino, tapping her sandals against the cafe floor. Lance said he needed to speak with her as soon as possible. The only thing she could think of was that there was a problem with their new apartment back in Baltimore. Being away all summer was fantastic, but it was nerve wracking to coordinate a move from overseas. Luckily, Arthur was going to stay in their old apartment, and insisted that Lance could keep his stuff there as long as necessary.

She bit her bottom lip in a wide smile at a familiar face out the window. Lance waved at her and her smile faded.

“Hey,” he said softly, pecking her cheek. “Thanks for coming such short notice. I know you've got orchestra tonight.”

She blurted out, “What did you do to your hair?”

Her hand flew to her mouth when Lance's face flushed.

“I know it's a little short,” he mumbled, fluffing his hair with his right hand. “But I needed a haircut. I felt like the hobo at work.”

“Aw,” Gwen laughed, reaching across the table. She stroked his hair, which was still long-ish, but with a bit more shape. “You look really handsome.”

Lance smiled and leaned into her hand.

“I've got good news.”

“Other than that we'll be saving on shampoo?”

“Ha ha,” Lance said sarcastically as the waitress arrived. He ordered a cappuccino of his own. Gwen reached across the table and stroked his hair again, their hands linking in the center of the small cafe table. “Now, the good news.”

Her eyes lit with excitement.

“Yes! Do tell, please.”

He squeezed her hand, humming thoughtfully for a moment.

“What are your thoughts about moving after we graduate next year?”

Gwen's brows furrowed, though her excited smile didn't fade.

“Where? Back to California? Or Chicago?”

“Um, how about here?” Lance said softly, thumb rubbing the top of her hand. When Gwen said nothing, just staring wide eyed at him, he continued, “To Vienna?”

“Wait, did you—Did they--” Gwen let out a burst of frantic laugher, her grip on Lance's hand tightening to a vice. She half stood up in her seat, then sat down. “Did they offer you a position?” Lance opened his mouth to talk, but based on his bashful smile Gwen interrupted with, “They did! Oh, sweet Jesus, they did!”

 

**Wednesday July 25**

“Pass the oil, please?”

Arthur reached over his head, pawing in the sand. His fingers slipped, slick with sweat, but he managed to wrangle the bottle into his hand. He handed it to the right.

“Thank you, bro bro.”

Arthur groaned into his folded arm.

“Why must you call me that?”

“Stop being such a grumpy pants. I flew in for the day while my spa is in chaos. Zoning drama galore. I refuse to let you bring me down.”

Arthur turned his head, squinting through his sunglasses. Morgana smoothed oil up her arms, her face half covered by round black sunglasses. They smiled at each other. He turned onto his back, fingers dragging through the sweat lingering under his navel.

“I just feel useless.” He peered up at the sun, one hand resting behind his head. “Last summer I was doing something worthwhile, this summer--”

Morgana spritzed his face with a bottle of cool water, Arthur sputtering.

“I know, Peru, paradise, pottery, blah blah blah,” she said, spritzing him again and giggling. “All the words that you like that begin with the letter P. But Arthur, please relax. You managed to squeeze in a month teaching art in Argentina. I think you've met your artsy quota for the summer and can take a vacation.”

He took the oil from her and dribbled some on his chest. 

“Whatever.”

As he rubbed the oil over his torso a tanned woman walked past their lounge chairs, a simple black bikini clinging to her flat muscled stomach.

“Hi Arthur,” she said, a rolled white towel tucked against her side. She smiled, the sea air blowing her dark blond waves. Black aviators shielded her eyes. She quirked her hip, her long legs on full display. “Are you coming to three o'clock yoga?”

Morgana sipped her iced tea through a straw, amused eyes going from her smiling brother to the equally smily woman standing in front of them.

“Wouldn't miss it,” he said.

She walked away. Morgana whistled softly.

“What an ass,” she said, spritzing Arthur's face again. She snickered, noting his flushed cheeks. “Poor Arthur. You're really having a tough time with vacation.”

Arthur grumbled, “Shut up,” and picked up a book, crossing his ankles. 

 

**Thursday August 16**

Gwaine rolled over onto his stomach, expecting to get a face full of pillow. Instead, his cheek stuck to something floppy. He slapped his hand on the pillow.

“Good morning,” a deep voice laughed softly. “I thought you'd never get up.”

Gwaine pried his left eye open, Percy grinning in front of him in nothing but low slung blue striped pajama pants. He could hear coffee bubbling from the kitchen.

“Hello,” he said, smiling and flopping on his back. He tucked his right hand behind his head. “Fuck, I love you in those pants. And I love that you turned the AC up before we went to sleep.” He rolled his shoulder, wincing a bit. “What'd we do last night?”

Percy sat next to him on the bed. He gazed appreciatively at Gwaine's stomach, fingers lightly tracing between each ab.

“Each other,” he said, Gwaine's stomach bouncing with a belly laugh beneath his hand. “And then,” Percy's voice went quiet, more shy, his thumb brushing Graine's nipple, “you read me Curious George aloud before we went to sleep.” 

Gwaine reached up with both hands and cupped his cheeks.

“I love you, my curious little monkey,” he said, wetly pressing their lips together.

His smiling eyes went from Gwaine to his pillow and back. Gwaine's posture straightened up and he lowered his arms, resting his weight on his elbows.

“What is this?” he asked. He reached for the shiny silver rectangle that was resting on Percy's pillow. “Is this for me?”

“It is.”

Gwaine scrambled to sit up, the blanket pooled between his bare thighs. He rested his back against Percy's headboard. He slid his index finger in the seam, releasing the tape. 

“Wow, I figured you'd just rip into it,” Percy laughed. He sprawled on his side, propping his head up with his hand. 

“Well, you know I like to save. This is really nice paper! We could save it and...” The paper fell noiselessly to the bed. Gwaine turned the object over his his hands. He ran his fingers over the smooth cover. “Perce...” He felt an overwhelming sense of fear mixed in with his ecstatic glee, fear that he would somehow someday lose the amazing man laying on the bed with him. “Percy, you...”

“I wanted to give you your birthday present early,” Percy admitted softly, his smile shy and nervous. “I couldn't not show you once I got it in.”

Gwaine stared shell-shocked at the book cover that depicted a character that looked like a tiny child version of himself. 

“Brave Gwaine and the Rabbit Adventure,” he whispered.

“It's the first story you told me about yourself. On our first date. And it really...” Percy chuckled and slid his hand to Gwaine's thigh. “I just loved the way you told it. So animated. So sweet. You trying to make friends with a rabbit by leaving paths of sliced bread around your house.”

Gwaine barked out a laugh, falling face first into Percy's chest. 

“Percy McQueen, I am...I'm...” Gwaine's face squirmed against Percy's right nipple. “I'm getting all mushy face.”

Percy laughed, “Aww,” and wrapped his arms around Gwaine's back. He dropped a kiss in his sleep mussed hair.

“You just...You make me so happy,” Gwaine whispered, their bare feet rubbing together in a bundle of blanket. “You made me realize so many things. About myself. About art. About writing.”

“You give me too much credit,” Percy said just as softly. He pushed Gwaine's hair off his forehead to kiss him there. “I'm just happy I get to be with you through all of that. Art.” He kissed Gwaine's neck, rolling him onto his back. “Writing. Your incredibly creative writing.” He ran his fingers up Gwaine's arms to lace their hands together. Sunlight bounced off of Percy's tanned shoulders, the illustrator giving his writer a toothy smile. “Life.”

Gwaine wrapped his arms around Percy's back, tilting his head for a wet kiss.

“By the way,” Percy whispered, biting Gwaine's bottom lip. “Merlin mailed me your birthday present early.”

Gwaine's eyes went wide with excitement.

“Can I have it?”

“Not until your birthday.”

Gwaine gasped and pulled away from a kiss.

“Will you tell me what it is?”

Percy looked all too pleased to gloat, “Nope,” and peck Gwaine's nose.

“Why!?”

“Because it's a birthday present and it's not your birthday until tomorrow.”

Gwaine's legs clenched around Percy's waist.

“I'm going to find out what it is,” he promised Percy with a maniacal smile, half rolling Percy onto his side. 

They both laughed, albeit a bit grunted. Percy went to pin Gwaie's hands to the bed but Gwaine struck first, darting his fingers into Percy's ribs.

“Gwaine, you—“ Gwaine's fingers located the specific patch of sensitive ribs along Percy's right side, sending the illustrator into giggles. “Fuck, that's cheating!”

Gwaine just laughed victoriously and flattened on top, their bare skin sliding together. The sheets bunched in the scuffle, Gwaine's fingers managing to cause Percy to howl, “Merlin bought you Arcade Fire tickets!” within about thirty seconds.

 

**Thursday September 13**

Mr. Killy hummed, his arms extended straight ahead of his face. He squinted and pressed what he thought would place a phone call.

“Need some help?”

The older man looked up, still squinting through his glasses. A wide smile broke out on his face.

“Merlin!” Mr. Killy exclaimed, dropping the phone to his desk. He stood up, leaning his hands on the arms of his chair. Merlin noted his shaky legs, but still smiled at the man. “Long time no see!”

“Yes, it's been a long time.”

“I thought you built a studio at home?”

Merlin shrugged, biting his bottom lip.

“I did, but it's nice to get out.”

“Very good, very good.” He sighed and picked up the phone again, holding it almost to his nose. “This damned thing is so confusing.”

“Ooh,” Merlin peeked over the counter, “new phone?”

“Yes. My grandson got a new phone and gave me this thing, but I can't be bothered.” He turned the screen towards Merlin and sighed, exasperated. “There aren't any buttons!”

“Can I come around?”

“Sure, sure.” 

Mr. Killy sat back down, rolling his chair to the left to allow Merlin a spot to stand. The painter dropped his messenger bag and leaned his hip on the desk, accepted the phone from Mr. Killy.

“Let's see here,” Merlin said softly, thumbing the touch screen. “My mom has this phone. It's pretty easy, actually.”

“What did you do this summer, my boy?”

“Uh, I went to Barcelona, actually,” Merlin said, smiling at Mr. Killy. He turned the phone to face him. “Just for a couple of weeks for an artist's colony thing. Then I spent a lot of time in Portland. I wanted to be with my family. Who knows what I'll be doing next summer. This was my last summer to kind of just mess around.”

. . .

“Hi, Mr. Killy, how's it going?”

Mr. Killy looked up from Angry Birds. 

“Arthur!”

Hours later and the man was pushing himself out of his chair yet again. That tended to happen a lot at the start of a new school year.

They shook hands over the counter, the potter's skin warm and smooth. 

“I just saw your friend in here! He left about half an hour ago.”

Arthur tilted his head, still smiling.

“Who? Lance?”

“No, Merlin.”

Arthur's smile faded.

“Oh. Him.”

Mr. Killy laughed gruffly, the sound seeded deep in his chest. He punched the center of his chest as he finished his laugh.

“You two amuse me to no end.”

Arthur snorted, “Why?”

“Because you are so similar, yet refuse to see it.”

“I don't think so,” Arthur hurried to say, stepping away from the desk.

“You may not see it,” the old man's eyes twinkled, “but I do.”

 

**Friday September 21**

“Merlin?”

“Yes, sir?”

Mr. Hsu appeared at his side as Merlin's fingers flew over the touchscreen register.

“Can you run a delivery?” He held up two enormous white shopping bags. “It is just down the street.”

“Sure, but,” Merlin bit his lip and tilted his head at the screen, “I just punched out. Can you put me back in?”

Mr. Hsu touched the screen and punched in his password.

“I'll fix your hours, no problem. Will pay you extra hour.”

Merlin scoffed a laugh and said, “No way, don't do that.” He took the bags and lifted one to eye level, reading the address. “It's no problem. Don't even bother doing that. It's on my way home.”

Mr. Hsu smiled and shrugged.

“It is done.”

Merlin threw a thin red scarf around his neck before he left the restaurant. The walk was less than a minute away. He recognized the building from a couple of years ago. The bottom floor used to be a Chinese restaurant. The top floor, as far as he knew, was luxury office space. 

He noticed the windows one the entire top floor were blocked out with expensive looking white posters that simply said Spagana. He buzzed for entry.

“What's a Spagana?” he wondered aloud.

The door clicked and he went inside. With each step up to the second floor it seemed to get more relaxed. The air felt cleaner and there was a nearby sound of trickling water. He stood on the pale wood floor at the top of the steps. Two floor to ceiling glass doors were in front of him.

“Wow,” he said, pushing the right side door with his shoulder. He walked into a world of contrasts. 

There was a huge open room full of light. It must have been half of the entire second floor. It was decorated with the most luxurious looking couches and armchairs he'd ever seen, all in light neutrals or white. The floor was such pale hardwood that he wanted to take his shoes off. The fancy interior was paired with gruff looking construction worked lounging around, buzz saws whirling in the background and drop clothes all over the place. 

More construction workers were seated in lush white leather chairs that lined the right wall, their feet submerged in bubbling tubs of water. He noticed that there was some sort of build out going on further into the space with many smaller rooms along each hallway. 

“Merlin,” Morgana said smoothly as she approached, smiling with her hands on her hips. She wore skintight jeans and knee high riding boots, a long white button down shirt rolled up at the elbows. “Lovely to see you again.”

“Hi,” he said, smiling. He was shocked she'd remember him. He held up the bags. “Mikado delivery?”

“Ooh, yes, thank you.” She disappeared behind the desk. When she reappeared she had an eggplant Birkin bag in front of her. She pulled out a matching wallet. “Thank you so much for coming so quickly.” She handed him forty in cash and smiled. “My staff is famished.”

Merlin took the cash and pocketed it, glancing around.

“No problem at all. This place looks beautiful.”

Morgana grinned down at a clipboard, scrawling her signature on it. She pushed her long black hair off her forehead.

“Thank you, sweet boy. We're set to open the first of October and you're welcome here anytime.” She handed the clipboard to a construction worker and patted the center of his chest. “I owe it all to these guys. They've built every single Spagana location and somehow they keep coming back.”

The construction worker chuckled, his small mouth twitching amidst his large grey beard.

“She gives us sushi for lunch. And pedicures.” He raised his eyebrows at Merlin. “Wouldn't you keep coming back?”

A deep, rolling laugh sounded from the far end of the spa. Morgana snickered and took a bag from Merlin.

“Would you mind carrying the other one, Merlin? We can set them in the staff room.”

“Sure,” Merlin said, following Morgana's lead.

Another hearty laugh cut through the quiet chatter, surrounding workers laughing as well in their pedicure chairs. The sound made Merlin smile. He walked to the end of the row and saw a very familiar face.

“Oh, c'mon, Marie,” Arthur laughed towards the smirking woman holding his right foot above a tub of bubbles. “Now you're just doing that on purpose to make me laugh!”

They seemed to know each other based on Arthur's familiar teasing. He relaxed in the vibrating chair, his eyes still crinkled with laughter. He looked so relaxed, so happy, that Merlin found himself smiling down at the bag of sushi as he walked.

“Lunch is served, boys,” Morgana said as she passed Arthur's chair. She looked over her shoulder. “One of your little friends is here, Arthur.”

Arthur laughed, “What?” and watched her walk by. Merlin trailed behind her. Arthur's smile dropped from his face, his feet plopping back in their tub of water. He sat up straighter. “Oh,” he said softly. “You.”

They had not yet spoken that term. They hadn't spoken since the end of junior year, during the orgy cab ride from hell. Arthur noticed that Merlin looked taller, broader, more filled out. More manly.

“Hi,” Merlin said.

His voice even sounded deeper. Arthur shifted in his pedicure chair.

“Hi,” he replied.

Arthur's hair was a touch longer and boyishly mussed. He wasn't as tan as last September, but was still golden as ever. His jeans had been rolled up as far as they could go over his calves, though the left leg was slouching a few inches lower than his right.

“She ordered sushi.”

“I see.” Arthur cleared his throat. The room was quiet, save for the cheerful bubbling from each foot tub. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Merlin said.

They blinked in unison. Merlin turned away, Arthur busying himself with his phone.

 

**Monday October 8**

Gaius took a big breath, held it, and then exhaled. He felt the wind of an entire class brush against his face. He smiled and opened his eyes.

“Are we all relaxed now?”

There were murmurs and smiles all around. Gaius chuckled softly.

“Good.” He held up a packet of papers. “I have something for all of you.”

“Is it another field trip?” Gwaine asked from the back of the studio.

Gaius smiled and handed a chunk of packets to a student on the end of the front row. He walked towards the back.

“Not quite, Gwaine.” He personally handed Gwaine a packet. “Congratulations on your new major.”

Gwaine grinned, “Thank you, sir.”

“Better late than never,” Gaius said with a smirk, winking at the new writer. He gave Merlin the final stack of papers and turned away. He raised his voice to reach the whole class. “We're gathered here today, instead of at an exhibit, because there are many deadlines you all must meet in order to graduate.”

The tension of the class was ratched up a few notches. Gaius reached the front of the room again and smiled. 

“Must we do a bit more breathing?”

“Isn't this, like, early?” Chatty Chelsea drawled, the eraser of her pencil never leaving her mouth. “It's just October.”

“I think you all will be surprised at just how quickly this year will go by,” Gaius said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against a desk. “Your first two years were so full of classwork that you could barely understand what was happening. Last year, you became independent. You had more freedom, and the year surely felt like it lasted forever. This year?” He shook his head, his shaggy white hair swishing around his smooth face. “You will be so busy trying to complete coursework, to secure something for after graduation, while also trying to make the most of each moment. You will close your eyes, and it will all be over in an instant.” He rubbed his fingers over his chin, smiling sadly. “Though that is life, I suppose.”

When he looked back at the class even the crickets had been stunned into silence. An ocean of young, wrinkle-free faces stared back at him, shocked and horrified. He smiled wryly.

“But before life ends, we must go over the packet.” He held it up. “Now. Let's talk about overdue library books and your graduation status, shall we?”

 

**Wednesday October 31 – Halloween!**

“I've never heard of a boss throwing her employees a Halloween party.”

“Well, you've clearly never had an amazing boss like me,” Morgana said cheerfully. “And my staff has had one hell of an opening month. They deserve a party.”

Arthur's arms ached and his back already was feeling twinges of tightness. He obediently carried five bags of liquor bottles into Morgana's apartment. He'd already helped her get a keg in there, which looked a little silly in her impeccable penthouse. 

Her voice floated to him from her bedroom.

“Are your little friends coming?”

“Yes,” he said, unpacking bottles.

Arthur eyed the bag of supplies on the kitchen table.

“And your costume?”

“Ninja turtle.”

“Excellent!”

. . .

 

“The costume party is called Sex and Candy?”

Gwaine shushed Merlin and continued to line his lower eyelid with black. Merlin almost giggled but stifled himself. He valued his eyeball.

“Yes,” Gwiane said, his lips pursed with concentration. “It is. And I bet it's going to be a real blowout. Morgana doesn't seem like the type to go small.”

“Speaking of small,” Merlin adjusted himself through his pants, “are these leggings for girls that you got me?”

“I don't believe so,” Gwaine said, now lining Merlin's top lid. “Besides, pirates are supposed to be sexy.”

“I'm basically wearing clothes my mom wears. Leggings, and,” he fluffed his loose black button up away from his stomach, “a mumu style top.”

“You look very fetching.” Gwaine stopped lining and smiled down at him. “I especially like your boots.”

Merlin lifted his feet off the floor for an experimental foot wiggle. Gwen had spotted the knee high black boots in a thrift store for nearly nothing and snatched them up for Merlin, even before she knew about his pirate costume.

“I like these. I feel like I should be riding a horse in them,” he laughed, “but I like them.”

“You'll probably get to ride something tonight in those.”

. . .

“Arthur, you sneaky shit!” Morgana laughed, ruffling his hair. “Why didn't you tell me that you guys were all doing this?”

“It was a surprise,” her brother said, giggling and squirming away.

A handful of Morgana's construction crew and Arthur (who was honorary construction, for all the time he spent on site) had banded together to dress as various Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and a few of the extra characters. Her lead massage therapist, Amy, was even dressed as the reporter April

“And here I was, being all boring as Bad Romance Lady Gaga,” Morgana whined playfully, shoving a purple masked turtle's shoulder. She looked around, trying to differentiate between the many colorful masks and green t-shirts. She tilted her head at the purple one. “Who are you again?”

Morgana left her turtles and planted herself back at the front door. She had to ensure that each person who entered was accounted for and met her personal approval. There was to be no bullshit at this party. She arrived just in time to receive an elevator containing guests. There was a soft knock on her door.

She pulled it open and smiled. 

“Hello there,” she purred to Gwaine. “Lovely to see you. Love the costume. It suits you.” She tapped the tip of his floppy black hat. “Your stubble was born to be on the high seas.”

Gwaine grinned, rubbing his hand over his stubble. 

“Hello, Lady Morgana.”

“Ooh, I do like it when you speak formally, dear pirate.”

Gwaine threw his head back to laugh, Morgana giggling. She had candy jewelry looped casually around his wrist, her fingers twirling the edible beads with ease. Her eyes landed on Merlin, who had a similar silly hat on.

“And you Merlin,” she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, “wonderful to see you, as usual. Did you bring me a snack?”

Merlin laughed. “I didn't think sushi would mix with large amounts of alcohol and candy.”

“Ah, so wise you are. Wise and channeling some serious sexy pirate couture tonight.”

Merlin chuckled again, running his fingers nervously over the bared skin below his throat. His shirt was unbuttoned almost past his nipples, which Gwaine said made him very pirate-y. Gwaine also declared that his red scarf was best used looped around his waist, not his neck. She looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen, Arthur shooting daggers at her over his solo cup. She held up a necklace, a bracelet, and a ring pop.

“Now boys, who needs what?” She held each item up individually to announce it. “Ring pop equals you're already taken, bracelet equals it's complicated, and necklace equals single.” 

Gwaine's lips twitched into a small smile, his finger extending towards the ring pop. Morgana's eyebrows arched, intrigue lighting her face. 

“Ahh, I see.” She slid the ring onto his pointer finger. “And who is the lucky lady or man who is complicating your life?”

“Ah, well, that's a bit private,” he said, though he was smiling as if he had hit the lotto. “But thanks for the party.”

Merlin beamed at his friend. Gwaine smiled like that when he thought of Percy, which was just so damn adorable. Percy had opted out of the party. Unlike most of his senior year friends, he was in the midst of an insane amount of work and had an exam at nine in the morning the next day.

“And you Merlin?” She jingled a handful of bracelets near his face. “Single or taken?”

“Um, single,” Merlin declared, still baffled at the complicated candy theme of the party. Morgana produced a rainbow candy necklace, her smile blinding. He ducked his head down when prompted and the necklace sprung into place around his neck. “Thanks, I think?”

“The suggestions for the party are simple: When the song of the night comes on, simply find another single person, bite off a candy bead of their necklace, and,” her right eyelid shut for the briefest of winks, “have a little fun.”

Merlin fingered the candies around his neck; there were an awful lot of beads. Her eyes sparkled at him.

“I have a feeling you won't have any trouble giving your candy away, Merlin.”

He laughed and shook his head, cheeks flushing. 

“Dunno about that.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Gwaine sang loudly, arm slung around his shoulders. His blue ring pop glistened; he must have already snuck a suck for himself. A song Merlin recognized from MGMT blared through the DJ's speakers. “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.” They moved into the throng of people. “Let's go inside and bite some body parts, shall we?”

Once all the guests had arrived, Morgana lowered the music and stood on a chair. She managed to balance excellently, even in her platform heels. She had a few words to say to her specifically selected guests, just to be sure things would run as scheduled.

“I generously will remain sober all night to ensure nothing gets out of hand. Let me be clear,” she pointed slowly around the whole room, “no one will be uncomfortable tonight. If someone is not interested in you, back off. If you are not interested in someone, simply say, 'No, thank you,' and that will be it. If you are here, you were invited and are trusted. Do not break my trust.”

Merlin whispered, “Is this a swinger's party?” to Little Mermaid Gwen, who smiled into his shoulder. Lance truly made a handsome Prince Eric.

“So,” Morgana said, clapping her hands twice rapidly and grinning, “let's get started. When you hear this song,” she held one manicured pointer finger in the air and tilted her head, “that means it's candy time.”

The Marcy's Playground song Sex and Candy started to thump through the speakers and was met with laughter from the costumed guests. The lights dimmed, a fog machine started to fill the room, and things started to get loose.

. . .

Thirty minutes later, Arthur had yet to bite anyone's neck. His neck had been thoroughly sucked on, and he'd made out with a massage therapist from Morgana's spa on line for the bathroom, but he hadn't initiated anything. Who wants to hook up in front of their big sister? Yikes. He was happy to enjoy a few drinks and play bartender in the kitchen.

Merlin had lost more than half of his beads and downed enough drinks to feel pleasantly buzzed. His neck had been nibbled on while dancing, nibbled on while pouring wine for Gwaine, nibbled on while texting his mom to say 'Happy Halloween!' 

He'd politely declined from kissing most people on the mouth. Just because it was Halloween didn't mean he wanted to get a candy coated cold. That said, he couldn't help but exchange a couple of giggled kisses with a construction worker who kept talking caulk in his ear.

The hypnotic voice drawled yet again through the speakers. Merlin started to giggle and sat on a spiderweb covered sofa. He waved at Gwaine across the room, who was dancing with Elena. They were legendary for their choreographed dance routines at partied. Someone reached for him, pulling off the sofa.

“Again?” he laughed, his body falling in their direction. His sword fell out of his belt loop and landed silently on the floor. “Who are you?”

The room lights were so dim, and his belly so warmed with tequila, that he took no notice of who was kissing his neck.

“I'm Margie,” a sweet voice said over the music. “I do facials at the spa.” She kissed his cheek. “You have incredible skin.”

He felt the crunch of a bead removed, then the wetness of female lips sucking on his neck. He turned his head and saw Margie's curly blond hair; her innocent grey eyes lined in electric blue. He smiled and laid on his back, his legs sticking out past the couch and into the hallway. 

“You're pretty,” he said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She straddled him, her hands on his face. 

“Song's still on,” she said, giggling and lowering her face.

Merlin smiled into her soft kiss, relaxing on his back. His tongue gently stroked hers, their lips wet and slow. She pulled back and sighed, her ladybug antennas crooked on her head.

“You're a fucking amazing kisser.”

Merlin smiled shyly.

“Thanks.”

“You're also gay,” she stated. 

He shrugged and nodded, both laughing. She pecked his lips and rolled off of him.

. . .

“Arthur! Puhlease, make out with me!”

Arthur flushed and looked away from the toilet. He rubbed Sophia's back, his other hand holding her hair of her face. 

“Soph, you're barfing. I don't do barfy kisses.”

“I barfed on your turtle mask.”

“You barfed on my turtle mask,” he confirmed, staring at the puke splattered blue shred of fabric now wilted in Morgana's bathroom garbage can. “Luckily, one of the guys was leaving, so he gave me his.” He wiggled his eyebrows, causing the new red mask to move up and down. “See?”

She whimpered and laid her face on the rim of the toilet bowl. There was a beat of silence, Arthur stroking her hair while she just breathed shakily. He released her hair and picked up a wine bottle, chugging a few gulps in a row. 

“I would blame you for all your delicious drinks that got me into this mess,” she slurred, peering at him through mascara caked eyes. “But you're the nicest.” She eyed the bottle of wine. “Can I have some?”

“No, I'm not,” he laughed softly. “And no, you may not.”

“You are,” she insisted, half on a sob. She burped and laughed, Arthur laughing along with her. She lifted her hand, stroking the brushed metal handle. “Morgana has a really nice apartment.”

“Yes, she does,” Arthur said, looking over his shoulder. Someone had been banging on the door for the past three minutes, but Sophia's stomach had priority. He swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, sparkling white wine tingling in his belly. “Now, let's get you some water, a little bit of mouthwash, and you'll be good to go.”

She turned her head, something neon and pink, dripping off her bottom lip. She smiled sweetly.

“Then will you make out with me?”

. . .

The next time the song came on Merlin was dancing with Elena and Gwen, all three giggling with their hands in the air. The lights had been dimmed to near darkness, Morgana passed around trays of orange jello shots, and the heat of the room only grew hotter. The dancing grew closer, bodies sweating and pressing together.

The party cheered at the familiar droning voice, bodies bumping together in drunken excitement. Gwen and Lance started to slow dance (who does that at a slutty Halloween party?) and Merlin and Elena didn't feel like looking for a candy partner, so they continued to jump around, Merlin breaking out the robot while Elena just laughed and rubbed her ass against Gwaine's thigh. 

Gwaine picked a shaggy light brown wig up from the floor and squeezed it on Merlin's head, replacing his hat. Merlin couldn't stop laughing, his friends holding his face still while Gwaine drew something (most likely obscene) on him in eyeliner.

While dancing like a crazy person, Merlin wondered what he would be doing next Halloween. Would he be near his friends? Would he be able to get wasted and silly? Or would he have to deal with real life?

Arthur came out of the bathroom, an empty wine bottle in hand. He placed it on the kitchen counter and wiped his hand over his face. Morgana appeared behind him and popped a backwards orange baseball cap on his head. 

He saw a flash of pale skin with a few candy beads still hanging on. He squinted through his red Ninja Turtle eye mask, blinking rapidly. They were in the bathroom for over half an hour, during which he finished off a bottle of wine by himself. He moved into the surging crowd, his tongue running over his lips.

He brushed his fingers against the pale neck. The person turned to face him and in his swimming vision, he saw a mustache. Morgana must have done something to the lights, he thought to himself, because the room started to throb. He hadn't planned on getting so drunk, but now he was. He didn't really like guys with facial hair, but this guy was pretty cute. Might as well make the best of it.

The person attached to the neck didn't turn to face him but ground backwards, a small ass pressed to his groin. Arthur opened his mouth, slowly seared his lips to the candy bead covered neck and sucking hotly. He felt a groan rumble as he kissed to the front of the person's neck.

The song of the nice changed to a new Muse song, one with a slapping funk beat. Arthur gripped narrow hips and started to grind, unaware of Morgana's hysterical laughter from the kitchen.

“Oh God,” she laughed, turning away with her hands over her eyes. “I can't watch my brother dirty dance. Get me some whiskey.”

Merlin was blissfully unaware who was tasting him with delicate, mischievous nips and sucks, other than that he was dressed as some sort of neon Mask of Zorro baseball player. He knew that he was hot, firm, and just a little bit handsy. He knew that his arms reeked of athletic jock; maybe he was a massage therapist, or a construction worker. He also smelled like heaven and didn't seem to mind that Merlin was sweating underneath his wig.

“Who are you?” Merlin asked.

“Turtle. Ninja Turtle,” was breathed into his ear. “Room? With me?”

Merlin giggled and ground his ass backwards, sharp teeth tugging on his lobe. This was a safe space filled with Morgana approved people. This could be fun. 

He nodded and before he knew it was stumbling down a dark hallway. The heat of a hand was burning his back through his shirt. 

They made it into a dark bedroom and fell onto an empty king sized bed, coats fluttering to the floor. Merlin mewled into his partner's mouth. His lower back arched when hot hands slid up the bottom of his shirt, pulling it out of his pants. His fingers slid up a neon green tee. Merlin groaned into a kiss, his partner's lips vibrating whenever his fingers passed over his nipples.

Merlin pushed the turtle onto his back, more coats falling to the ground. The bed bounced under them but he straddled the beefy blond. 

“I don't do anything big with strangers,” Merlin shouted, his words barely heard over the music. “No ass stuff.”

“Can I touch your ass?”

“Sure!”

Arthur smiled drunkenly up at him and gently slapped his ass, Merlin starting to rotate his hips. Arthur's hands pulled his face down, their lips smashing together.

 

**Thursday November 1**

Merlin rolled over in his bed and checked his phone. He tried to do math in his head to calculate the number of minutes before class started. It was too difficult; his brain kept mixing up what numbers came next. Nine twenty, nine thirty, nine twenty-five? 

His eyes ached and his stomach lulled. He tossed the phone on his bedside table and pulled the blankets over his head. It was senior year. He could miss his first class.

. . .

Arthur's feet were sweating so profusely that he wondered if they were on fire. He had such a severe case of wine mouth that he wondered if his mouth was on fire, too. He lifted his arms over his head and stretched them towards the headboard. His nose wrinkled. He smelled his own funk and needed to take a shower. Taking a shower involved getting out of bed. 

His alarm clock beeped and he groaned. Fucking Morgana, throwing wild parties on a school night.

He managed to get out of bed a few hours later and shower off his coating of sweat and candy corn residue. It wasn't a shock to see Merlin shuffling a few steps ahead of him towards Donna's. One thing they agreed on was that Picasso's sucked.

. . . 

Merlin yawned and stretched his arms over his head. The only thing keeping him going was the increasing scent of coffee in the air. He trudged up the steps of Donna's and held the door open behind him.

“Skipping class?”

He turned, shocked, and saw Arthur smirking, looking a bit worn out.

“Yeah,” he rasped, rubbing the back of his neck. “You?”

“Yes. I'm not even guilty.”

Merlin chuckled at that, his dimples peeking out.

“Your sister throws crazy parties.”

“I know. I woke up drunk, I think.”

Arthur gestured for Merlin to go inside. They stood in line together, the cafe packed.

“I feel like I'm getting old,” Merlin said, half to himself, half to Arthur. He could feel that Arthur was listening. “I can't bounce back anymore, not the way I used to.”

“I know.”

They stepped up at the same time, just one group in front of them.

Arthur asked, “Did you have fun last night?” 

Merlin's eyes lit up, though he dropped his face to hide his guilty smile.

“Yeah. Morgana's got...Uhh....” Merlin giggled and rubbed his hands over his eyes. Arthur studied his neck, which was showing some signs of a night full of biting. “Some attractive friends.”

Arthur smiled and grunted as he cleared his throat.

“I know.” He rubbed his fingers over a particularly tender area on his neck, along the bottom where his right shoulder started. “Was fun.”

“Yeah,” Merlin replied, both stepping up to order.

 

**Saturday November 17**

“Arthur! You're here! Yay!”

Arthur laughed and leaned in, pecking Sophia's cheek. She took his coat and bundled him into her cramped apartment. 

“I've just taken out the quiche, and I made sandwiches, and rice crispy treats, and lots of hot chocolate. Oh! And shrimp cocktail.”

“Wow, quite a variety.” His eyes widened when he saw the bounty of food she had laid out. “You didn't have to do all this, Soph.”

She giggled and held his shoulders, plopping him at her kitchen table.

“You were my Halloween savior after that cray cray night! And we're been so busy. I needed to thank you.”

“It was a cray cray night,” Arthur repeated, smirking and sipping a mug of hot cocoa. 

Sophia sat on her knees on the remaining chair. She held her mug between her hands and sipped, humming. Her round eyes went coy over her steaming mug.

“You had a fun night, hm?”

Arthur chuckled and picked up a rice crispy treat. He shrugged, biting into it.

“It was fun,” he said with his mouth full.

“I feel bad you had to leave because of me.”

He shrugged again, swallowing.

“Don't worry. I wasn't looking to stay that late.”

“Oh yeah?” She giggled loudly and picked up three shrimp with one hand. “You looked pretty comfortable with Merlin.”

Arthur's jaw continued to chew, his wrist bent with half of a treat hanging from his fingers. He grunted, his brows twitching together.

“What?”

“Merlin,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. She bit all three shrimp. “Duh.”

Arthur placed the treat on his My Little Pony plate and brushed his hands together, his face even more confused. He sipped his cocoa. His tongue lapped over his bottom lip, swiping his top lip once.

“What about Merlin?”

“You two had been fooling around right before you and I left.”

“Wh--” Arthur's eyes darted left and right. He barked out a laugh. “What!?”

Sophia looked up with a mouthful of quiche, smiling through closed lips.

“It's true,” she said out the corner of her mouth. 

Arthur shook his head, cutting himself a piece of quiche.

“You're nuts, Soph. You were wasted.”

“Did you not hook up with a guy? A pirate?”

“Well...Yeah,” he admitted with a shrug. “We just made out for a little bit. And there were, like, twenty variations of pirate there. No big.”

“Um, you were raving about him in the cab ride home,” she laughed, prodding his shin with her socked foot. “About how he got on top,” she began a faux writhe in her chair, “kissing you all over,” Arthur dry heaved while she started running her hands through her hair, “and pinned you to the bed and,” she groaned, “ooh baby!”

“Shut up, just, fuck, stop doing that!” His hands flailed tightly. “It's disturbing.”

Sophia laughed even harder, Arthur's cheeks scarlet.

“This is false,” he said, shaking his head. “What...How...” He brightened up. “No, it wasn't Merlin. This person had,” he touched his own head, “light hair. Long light hair. Nothing like him.”

“Look,” Sophia said, giggling. She tapped her iPhone screen and picked it up. “Gwaine drew a pirate mustache on Merlin at around one in the morning.” She smiled sweetly and turned her phone towards Arthur. “I know this because he borrowed my eyeliner.”

“Yeah, so?” Arthur grunted, knee jiggling under the table at rapid speed. He could practically hear Merlin's donkey laugh, his mouth was so wide in laughter with his eyes crinkled shut.

“And then,” her thumb passed over the screen to scan to another photo, “you were photographed by moi at around two-thirty, looking,” she giggled, “in a daze.”

Arthur squinted at the (unflattering) photo of him smiling goofy and leaning against the wall near Morgana's bedroom, his baseball cap nearly falling off his head. 

“That doesn't prove--”

Her finger swiped again.

“And with a smeared on mustache.”

Arthur paled, his mouth agape. There he was, head on, smirking and with black makeup smeared over his face. Sophia giggled and waggled her phone at Arthur.

“So?” Arthur gasped, his fingers digging into her kitchen table.

“So!? So, you and Merlin hooked up. Big deal. He's super cute!”

“We didn't,” Arthur said gruffly. The combination of strange foods was starting to turn in his stomach. His breath exhaled quicker from his mouth. “No. No, we didn't. Delete that photo, please.”

“But, Arthur--”

“Sophia, please. Please, delete those photos. And don't tell anyone any of this. Please.”

She smiled and nodded, and Arthur hated how she looked both sympathetic amused.

“Okay, okay,” she deleted the photos in front of him. “You're really putting a damper on my MIA paparazzi career.”

 

**Monday December 3**

“I've been trying new things lately. Trying not to do just portraits. So I've started to think about really absurd thoughts--”

Arthur whispered to himself, “Shouldn't be much of a stretch,” while studying Merlin's painting. 

“--And really outrageous points of view. Politics, religion, whatever. And then trying ti imagine how they see things.”

“It's still your style, but it's almost abstract,” Gaius commented, walking in a slow arc around Merlin's painting. “It's kind of...”

“Spooky,” someone said.

“Deep,” said another.

“Nice.”

“Different, but you're growing.”

Merlin glanced at Arthur, who was silent and brooding as ever. The year was definitely flying by. Between applying for jobs, completing classwork, and going on interviews, he was looking forward to the last semester. Three and a half years of intense work meant that his last semester was kind of a joke. All he had to do was private lessons, one optional elective (he already enrolled in an independent study piano at the Bilt), and one personal finance course and he'd be done.

“Lovely, as always,” Gwaine said, his arm draped around Merlin's shoulders.

“Let's move on to Arthur's--”

“Professior Gaius?”

The class turned towards the gallery door. A work study student scurried to the professor, handing over a note. She whispered in his ear, Gaius' eyes filling with questions. He nodded at the aid and cleared his throat. He smiled tightly at the class.

“Let's continue, shall we? Arthur, please tell us about your offering.”

 

**Friday December 7**

Arthur had a strange relationship with hospitals. On one level, he felt uncomfortable and nervous. It wasn't the most cheerful place on earth. On another level, he admired how sterile it was. Nothing made him feel calmer than a bathroom that smelled like cleaning products. 

He entered the elevator and clutched the box of chocolates to his chest. Doctors and nurses and visitors filed in, the elevator filled to the brim. He stepped off on the eighth floor and followed signs until he found the room he was looking for.

He knocked gently on the open doorway.

“Yes?”

He put on a smile and made his way inside.

“Hi, sir,” Arthur said softly, standing next to the bed.

Mr. Killy's body looked so tiny, so alone, without his desk and knick knacks and keys and photos all over the place. He smiled up at Arthur; his face looked his age. He seemed tired, but cheerful.

“Hello, Arthur Pendragon,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper. “Are you here to make a sculpture of me?”

Arthur's lips twitched upwards. He shook his head and held out the candy. Mr. Killy's eyebrows rose slowly.

“Oh, how lovely,” the old man said, reaching out. His bony fingers trembled. Arthur placed the chocolates on his bed. “Thank you, Arthur.” His glazed eyes ran over Arthur's face, a relaxed smile lighting his eyes. “You're a good one.”

There was another quiet knock on the door. Mr. Killy looked towards the doorway.

“Yes?” He lowered his voice and whispered to Arthur, “I'm very popular today.”

“Oh, hi,” Merlin said, feet frozen at the start of Mr. Killy's partition curtain. He and Arthur looked at each other, Mr. Killy smirking in bed. “I...I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“No interruption,” Mr. Killy said. “Come in!”

He put his hands on the mattress and pushed, but collapsed in coughs. Arthur's brows knitted together, Merlin hurrying to the opposite side of bed. They both laid a hand on his shoulders. Mr. Killy fumbled with the bed remote, squinting at it.

“Need help?” Merlin asked.

Mr. Killy continued to cough but let out a laugh. He shook his head.

“No, no, my boy. I've managed to master this device, I believe.”

Merlin and Arthur caught eyes over Mr. Killy's head. MIA had sent an email to all students that Mr. Killy was having some health problems for a condition he had been battling for years. They suggested that students pay him a visit before the holiday break. Based on his condition that day, both Arthur and Merlin knew that it was probably the last time they would see Mr. Killy.

“Let's have some chocolates, hm?” Mr. Killy said, his body now elevated on the bed. His eyes widened happily. “And flowers,” he giggled, “Merlin, you shouldn't have.”

“I like flowers,” Merlin said, and he could feel Arthur's smirk without even looking at him.

Mr. Killy pretended to fluff his thinning hair. He sighed, “Flowers, chocolate, how romantic! Are we on a triple date?”

Both artists laughed despite the tension in the room.

“I'm sorry that I missed your exhibits, boys,” Mr. Killy said softly, running his fingers over the shiny chocolate packaging. “But I saw photos of both and they looked like raging successes.”

Arthur and Merlin glanced at each other. They had both opted to do their final exhibit early, to ensure the most carefree final term. Merlin was pleased with his show, and so was Arthur, but something about it was sad. It was their last time doing something with MIA. They were successful, but melancholy.

Arthur smiled down at Mr. Killy.

“Let's open those chocolates, yeah?”

 

**Thursday February 7**

Merlin woke from his late afternoon nap slowly, stretching his toes towards the end of the bed. Since his show finished he'd had even more time for naps. The joys of senior year. His fingers scratched the bottom of his hairline, itching behind his ears. He shivered and pulled the blanket to his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his word steaming in the air. He shivered again, even more violently, and rolled himself out of bed. He waddled towards his window. His eyes went round and wide, his mouth agape. His face lit up, with an angelic glow spreading over his skin from the window. He smiled and whispered, “Snow.”

He looked over his shoulder towards his alarm clock. The numbers were black. He hummed and waddled in his blanket coat to his bedside table. He clicked his small lamp on and off, with no lights. He looked out the window again. The streetlights were out on his block and the surrounding blocks he could see. 

His phone vibrated on the bed. He picked it up and said, “Hey, Gwen,” with a raspy, sleep deepened voice. “What's up?”

“Do you have power?”

“Appears not,” Merlin said, testing his alarm clock. He pulled his feet up to the bed and wrapped them in comforter. “No heat either. It's nippy in here.”

“We're out too,” she said, voice worried. “This blizzard is crazy!”

“Yeah, I thought it was just supposed to be flurries tomorrow.”

“So did everyone else. I'm so sad our cable is out. I love blizzard coverage on the news.”

“Nerd,” he giggled fondly.

“Did MIA cancel classes tomorrow?”

“Doubt it,” he said, putting her on speaker. He minimized the call and checked his email. 3G loaded slowly, his wireless knocked out along with the power. “They never close. So obnoxious.”

Gwen gasped happily, a male voice mumbling in the background.

“Lance just said you're closed!”

And what would you know, at that moment an administrative MIA email popped up on his phone announcing that classes had been cancelled for tomorrow. Merlin grinned.

“Awesome. I could use a day to catch up on work.”

“You shut your mouth,” Gwen laughed. It was her excited, raunchy laugh, and brought an immediate grin to Merlin's face. “We should hang out! Arthur's building still has power and heat. We're gonna go watch shitty tv all night and get bombed on wine. Like a sleepover!”

Other than the location of their hangout being in Arthur's building, that all sounded amazing.

“Um, I dunno.” He wrapped himself tighter in his blanket. “I wasn't invited.” 

“What don't you know? I'm inviting you. Bring over DVDs if you want to watch something. And stop by Steps to pick up wine. We're bringing a couple of bottles. See you!”

The call ended. There was a knock at the door.

“Merlin,” Gwaine groaned through the wood. He knocked again. “Magic Merlin?”

Merlin hurried to the door in his blanket. He opened it. Gwaine was pouting so strongly that Merlin feared his lips might be stuck in that position.

“What's wrong?” Merlin laughed, wrapping his blanket over Gwaine's shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Percy's flight was cancelled,” he said sadly, hugging Merlin. The cold tip of his nose brushed against Merlin's neck. “He can't take part in the snowday silliness at Arthur's!”

“Oh, so you were invited?”

“Yeah, he said we should both come by.”

“I see.”

Gwaine nuzzled behind Merlin's ear.

“Mmm, you're all sleepy warm. Were you napping?”

“I was.” He handed Gwaine his blanket and bent over. He slipped his socked feet into his brown ankle boots. “My alarm clock didn't go off, so when I woke up and saw the snowpacalypse, I was a little shocked.”

“I see, I see.” Gwaine walked into Merlin's bedroom and grabbed his red scarf. “Your jacket out there?”

“Yeah.”

Gwaine replaced Merlin's blanket on his bed and shivered. He clutched the scarf between his freezing hands for the walk back to the living room. Merlin smiled and wrapped it around his neck. 

“Elena and Sophia are going to try and come, but they're snowed in somewhere in Fells.”

“Cool.”

. . .

“Why do you have a two bedroom?”

“Guests. My sister sometimes stays over.”

“Very convenient for us,” Lance said, sliding his arm around Arthur's shoulders. He pecked his cheek and whispered, “We started in on the wine.”

Arthur smiled and patted Lance's cheek.

“I could tell. Your teeth are purple.”

Lance snorted and put his hand over his mouth. 

“The couch is a pull out,” Arthur said to Merlin and Gwaine. “So, I can set it up for you.”

“Oh, I'll do that,” Merlin hurried to say. “Where do you keep your sheets and stuff?”

“I'll do it.”

“No, I want to help.”

“Go get a glass of wine,” Arthur said with, dare Merlin believe, a smile. “I'll set up the couch.”

Gwaine pulled Merlin by the forearm towards the kitchen.

“Come, little prince,” he said, wrapping his arm around Merlin's shoulders. “It's a blizzard and we have wine to drink, giggles to giggle.”

They definitely drank bottles and bottles of wine, and they definitely giggled loads of giggles. They had watched a few episodes of Weeds, and half an episode of Project Runway before a couple of people in the toasty apartment protested. In the end, they started watching Dexter DVDs as they drank and gorged on frozen pizza.

“Perce, Perce,” Gwaine whispered dramatically, rolling onto his stomach on the pullout couch. He swayed his bare feet in the air. “I'm gonna cuddle with Merlin tonight when we go sleepies.”

Merlin and Gwen burst out laughing, Lance's laugh heard bellowing from the kitchen. A wine bottle popped open. Arthur's lips twitched into a smile around his wine glass. 

Gwen hopped off the couch and declared, “Need more wine.”

“Just cuddling,” Gwaine insisted, holding one finger in the air. 

He giggled and then pulled the phone from his ear. He muttered drunk nonsense and tapped the touch screen.

“You are a nutcase,” Percy's voice could be heard laughing on speaker phone, even more hysterical giggles crackling through the cell. “But I love you. Cuddle Merlin all you want. I'll be home tomorrow, weather permitting.”

“Awww,” Gwaine smiled, his feet swaying faster. “You love me!”

“You're very sweet, Perce,” Merlin said towards the phone. “Thank you for lending him to me.”

“I know you get cold, Merlin,” Percy's voice said.

“You know,” Gwaine said to Arthur, who glanced bored at him over his wine glass, “when Perce and I got together I told him that I'd still have to be able to cuddle Merlin when needed. It was a nonnegotiable.”

Amongst more raucous laughter from the kitchen, Merlin fell back on the couch with hysterical belly laughs, his hands over his face. He accidentally kicked a throw pillow to the floor.

“Gwaine, good God, stop talking,” he choked out between giggles. “Just stop. I'm dying!”

“It's true,” Percy said. “It was a cuddle clause. That's what he called it.”

Arthur just shook his head and propped his hand behind his head, small smile on his face.

. . .

“Why'd they fall asleep on the little couch?”

“Who knows.” Arthur stared very seriously at the television, navigating the DVD menu. “What do you think? You cool to finish the season?”

Merlin declared, “Hell yes,” with a mouth full of red wine. He swallowed, hold his hands over his lips while he laughed. “God, that was gross of me. Sorry. Yes,” he said, more controlled. He nodded. “Let's complete the season.”

Arthur directed his attention on the snoozing couple.

“Hey,” he gently shook Lance's shoulder. Lance just grunted and hugged Gwen tighter. “Get up and go sleep in the guest room.”

Gwen blinked twice, breathing in deep through her nose. She looked confusedly at Merlin.

“Where are we?”

“Go sleep in in the guest room,” Merlin giggled. He jerker his thumb over his shoulder. “Arthur's guest room.”

“Hmm. Okay. Sounds nice,” Gwen mumbled. Even while half asleep she managed a pleasant smile. “Thanks a lot.”

She squeezed Lance's hand and pulled. Lance fell onto the floor but bumped his face into Gwen's thigh. He let her lead the way into the bedroom. Arthur got up and followed them. Merlin's drunken brain thought he heard Arthur asking Gwen if they needed anything, like more pillows or a glass of water. 

Gwaine woke up with a start, gasping, “Gotta pee,” and kicking his feet at Merlin's. Merlin laughed and nudged him off the sofa bed. 

“Go pee.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gwaine mumbled, itching himself through his jeans and yawning.

Merlin reached for the remote and paused the DVD. Something soft plonked against the back of his head. He laughed and reached for whatever it was. He pulled it around to the front.

“I know you hate pajamas, but I figured you might get cold,” Arthur said, settling on the now vacant sofa. He extended his legs in front of him. “You can put the show back on.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, clearly shocked. Arthur remembered that he hated pajamas? How did he—Oh. Oh, right. Manhattan hotel room. Merlin's face heated at the memory. He rubbed his thumbs over the soft red material. “Thanks. That's nice of you.” 

Arthur said nothing, just crossing his ankles and settling on his back. He arched his back, his socked feet digging between the cushions. He sighed and shifted again.

Merlin asked, “You alright?”

“Yeah, just can't get comfortable.”

Merlin looked over the back of the sofa.

“You can come sit on the pull out.”

“What about Gwaine?”

“Gwaine is probably taking a shit, or has fallen asleep while taking a shit.”

Arthur laughed heartily, the sound so fluid and warm that Merlin grinned. 

“That's gross,” Arthur said, still laughing. He sipped his wine, throat bobbing to smile. “I'm glad I lit a candle in there earlier.”

That made Merlin laugh, his eyes dancing with laughter while he teased, “You did that? I thought that was a Gwen touch.”

Arthur sniffed, “What, men can't light scented candles?”

“Now that I think about it, you did light the candles on my table when...” His laughter died, a hot flush racing up from his toes to his earlobes. “Last year.” Merlin gulped the rest of his red wine. His throat was raspy to continue, “You know. The, uh, dinner.”

Arthur just nodded. He stood from the sofa and picked up the empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. He walked into the kitchen. Merlin found himself studying the sway of his ass in his low slung black sweats. A cork was popped in the kitchen. 

When Arthur returned Merlin dragged his eyes away from the bounce in the front of his sweats, forcing himself to study the television. What were they watching again?

“More wine?”

Merlin smiled up at Arthur, lifting his glass. Arthur filled it nearly to the brim. He held the bottle for Merlin to hold. He settled on the empty side of the bed. Merlin said nothing, just sipping his wine happily.

“By the way,” Arthur said quietly, voice slurring, “I lit candles that were already present in your apartment.” The wine bottle nudged Merlin's ribs, the painter smiling so wide his cheeks burned and staring at the television. “Which implies that you already purchased and stocked candles in your home.”

An hour later and Gwaine had not yet returned, but neither really noticed. They were too warm and giggly from the wine and Dexter.

“Want more wine?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Arthur said quietly. He held up his glass. His eyes darted to Merlin's sleepy face. Merlin was too busy being drunk to notice Arthur's softened stare. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Merlin giggled, settling back on his stack of pillows. He gripped the bottle of wine and balanced it against his hip. “Housing us in the storm. Very generous of you.” 

Arthur watched Merlin rub his socked feet together and burrow them under the comforter. 

“Cold?”

He was shocked to have asked the painter such a simple question. It came out naturally, like they were actually...Talking to each other. Merlin just smiled and shook his head, his eyes still on the television.

“No, your place is super toasty. My feet just get cold sometimes.”

“Oh, well, I can turn up the thermostat.” Arthur started to get off the bed. “Or get you an extra--”

“Arthur,” Merlin giggled softly, holding onto his shoulder. Arthur's eyes did a slow drop from Merlin's face to his hand. He blinked at the hand on his bicep. “I'm fine.” He squeezed. Arthur's eyes grew wider, doing another slow scan of their position. “Seriously, I'm warm and toasty.”

“You said that already.”

Merlin giggled and let go of his arm, relaxing on his back. He propped an arm behind his head. Arthur mirrored his position on the other side of the bed.

The apartment was quiet, save for the low volume of Dexter on television. Arthur felt soft, rhythmic vibrations from next to him.

“What are you, a cat?” he asked.

Merlin didn't reply. He was too busy snoring quietly, his chin touching his chest.

“Hey, don't fall asleep,” he slurred, nudging Merlin's shoulder. Merlin's eyes popped open in surprise. He breathed in, his wide eyes looking confusedly at Arthur's face. Arthur shook him again. “This is the best part of the episode.”

“I swear, I wont,” Merlin said on a giggle. He rolled his neck and sat up straight. His face went stern, eyes focused on the television. “I hate sleeping in front of people. Won't do it.” He giggled again and sipped his wine. “Can't do it, whoops, spilled on myself, sorry!”

Arthur's stomach ached he laughed so hard at Merlin's drunken fumbling. Merlin;s mouth was stuck open in a silent laugh, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I don't even know what we're laughing at,” Merlin eventually got out. He laughed again, dapping the back of his hand under his eyes. Arthur downed his glass of wine in his peripheral vision. “Hey,” Merlin's eyes lulled half shut, “where's Gwaine?”

“I'll go get him.”

“Okay.” Merlin's eyes shut fully. His body slackened with a sigh. “I'm sleeping. Tell him that, I mean,” he yawned, “that I'm sleeping.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

Arthur first checked the bathroom, which thankfully did not smell like shit. His trusty candle was still burning away. He blew it out. No need for a fire hazard.

He shuffled into his bedroom.

“There you are,” he laughed, shaking both of Gwaine's shoulders. “Merlin thought you were pooping.”

Gwaine just hummed and nuzzled his face further into Arthur's pillows. Arthur shrugged and shuffled back out of the room, hitting the lights on his way out. He popped into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he spit, he realized that he never turned the light back on. He just brushed (and peed) in the dark.

“Ah well,” he sighed, pulling his tee over his head. He dropped it in the bathtub and stretched his arms over his head, walking with a bit of a wobble back to the living room. 

The only light provided was from the television. He yawned at the though of futzing with the DVD player and just laid down on the sofa bed. The empty bottle of wine resting in Merlin's arms like a child was tossed gently to the coffee table. He pawed for the remote on the bed and flicked on the last episode of season four.

Just as the opening theme started to play his eyes drooped shut. His lips felt paralyzed with exhaustion, wine giving his body a tingly pre-sleep falling feeling. He dropped the remote on the bed and sank into sleep.

He heard Merlin breathing, “Mmmm. Warm,” in some distant, merlot soaked fold of his brain. The painter rested his cheek on the center of Arthur's chest. His arm snuggled between their bodies. “So nice.”

. . .

Gwaine was blessed with many fine qualities, but was also cursed with a small bladder. He found himself needing to pee at around four in the morning.

“Fucking Merlot,” he grumbled, throwing the covers off of his body. 

He walked as fast as he could (while still pretty drunk) towards where he thought Arthur's bathroom was. After relieving himself, he decided to hydrate. No use spending the snow day hungover.

He walked through the back of the living room to get to the open kitchen. The television was playing the Dexter DVD menu on a loop, the creepy strings of the theme song quietly filling the dark room. He grabbed a water bottle from Arthur's fridge. 

On the way back to Arthur's bedroom he realized he had no idea where Merlin ended up. He scratched under his chin. If he was sleeping in Arthur's bed, where was Arthur? Where on earth was everyone, sleeping with Lance and Gwen?

He shuffled to the television and turned it off. He turned around and grunted.

“Who are you?” he asked aloud to the two bodies snuggled together under a fluffy black comforter. He tiptoed to the top of the pullout couch. He pulled the comforter down.

Arthur hummed in his sleep and swatted at his hand, pulling the duvet back over Merlin's shoulders. Merlin squirmed and murmured, “Cold,” before Arthur's arm wrapped back around him. The painter settled down, breathing quietly under the covers.

Gwaine stared at the sigh in front of him, his jaw on his chest, his eyes popping out of his head.

He sipped his water, closed his eyes, then opened them again. The scene hadn't changed. Merlin and Arthur, not exactly the best of friends, were cuddling on the pullout couch. They were cuddling. On. The pullout. Couch.

Gwaine downed the entire bottle of water in one go. He wiped his hand over his lips and shook his head.

“I'm fucking hallucinating,” he giggled on the way back to Arthur's bedroom.

 

**Friday February 8**

The next morning bright sunlight threatened to burst through the long curtains covering Arthur's living room windows. Merlin squinted his eyes shut and whimpered. His ankles rotated against the bed, his toes wiggling in his socks. He felt someone shift behind him, his back covered by skin warm and soft as can be. He stopped all his wiggling and stretching and relaxed, a muscled arm wrapped around his stomach.

Hot air whispered behind his ear. He smiled, until he felt something very insistent pressed into his ass. His eyes shot open.

“Hey,” his muffled voice giggled, rubbing his face against the pillow. He jutted his ass back for a gentle wiggle. “I don't think Perce would be too pleased with you rubbing your morning wood on me. That's not in the cuddle clause.”

The warm arms around him tensed. He dozed off again. The pullout bed lulled behind him, the warmth gone. Merlin pulled the covers to himself and whispered, “Silly, Gwaine.”

Arthur hurried out of the living room, bumping into Gwaine on the way.

“Hi,” Gwaine said far too loud for the morning. Arthur shushed him and shoved past. Gwaine scratched the top of his head, confusedly asking, “What are you doing in here?”

Arthur seemed to ignore him completely. He ran his hands through his hair and paced around the bedroom.

“Want some breakfast?” he asked.

Gwaine just shrugged, still confused.

“I guess?”

“Alright.”

Arthur walked out of his bedroom with strong steps. He passed by the sofa, where Merlin was still sleeping, and went into the kitchen. He pulled out a frying pan.

“I'll make some eggs.”

Merlin stirred as Gwaine padded out from the bedroom. He propped himself up with one arm and rubbed his fist over his eyes.

“You okay now?”

“Huh?” Gwaine asked.

“The bathroom,” Merlin said, snuggling back down to the covers. “You okay now?”

“I don't think I went to the bathroom,” Gwaine said, eyes darting around the room. He whispered to himself, “Why am I so confused?”

“Come back to bed,” Merlin murmured, beckoning Gwaine with one finger.

Arthur watched over the breakfast bar as Gwaine slid under the blankets. It felt like a private moment, but he felt entitled to watch. It was happening in his living room, on his pullout couch. And he was the one who, for whatever absurd reason, decided to sleep on the couch with Merlin. Gwaine was basically taking his place.

Their bodies settled together. He heard soft talking from Gwen and Lance's room. Merlin and Gwaine were speaking softly to each other as well.

“I'm just kind of confused about sleeping.”

“You always get confused when you drink a lot of red wine,” Merlin said soothingly. His fingers stroked over Gwaine's wild hair. “You're fine.”

Gwaine mumbled, “I'm more than fine, I'm fine as hell,” and did something under the covers that made Merlin squeak. His quiet giggle lined up with a fit of chills down Arthur's spine. He'd have to adjust the thermostat after breakfast. They were in the middle of a blizzard, after all.

He methodically cracked eggs into a large metal mixing bowl, whisking milk into them with practiced, involuntary swirls of his arm. He dumped them into a buttered frying pan and poised his wooden spoon.

“Mmm, do I smell eggs?”

He offered Merlin's sleepy question no response, just pushing the forming lumps of fluffy eggs around the remaining liquid egg mixture. It made waves in the pan. Merlin padded into the kitchen in his rumpled jeans and Arthur's oversized red sweat shirt.

“Good morning,” he said to Arthur, throwing a squinty, soft smile his way. “Did you sleep well?”

Arthur shut the pilot off and shrugged. Gruffly, he said, “Fine,” and turned away from him, spooning heaps of eggs onto waiting white plates on the counter.

“Do you want me to make coffee? I remember where you keep your stuff.”

“Okay.”

Merlin opened the cabinet about Arthur's coffee pot, eyeing him over his shoulder. He pulled the bag of coffee down and measured enough for a full pot. He pushed the button and waited until he heard percolation. He walked over to where Arthur was arranging pieces of buttered toast on each plate.

“Are you alright?”

Arthur shoved a plate with eggs and toast at Merlin. He nodded tightly and said, “Yes. Fine.”

“Did I hear fine?”

Gwaine made his entrance into the kitchen. The minute he stepped on the tile floor he squealed and lifted his knees up to his chest.

“Fuck, cold! Cold, cold!”

Arthur handed him a plate and walked past him, to where Gwen and Lance had emerged from the guest bedroom. Gwaine munched on a piece of toast.

“What's his problem?”

Merlin shrugged with a mouthful of eggs. He swallowed and said, “Dunno. He's in a mood, I guess.”

Gwen ran a hand through her sleep mussed hair and smiled at Merlin.

“Morning, guys.”

Merlin tuned out Gwaine teasing Gwen about hearing the bed rocking all night long, which caused Gwen to promptly dissolve in giggles and denial. Lance appeared at his side. Something about his smile when he accepted a cup of coffee from Merlin told the painter that they might not have had the quiet night Gwen proclaimed.

They moved into the living room to finish their eggs and coffee. About halfway through an episode of Top Chef, Arthur got up from the couch. He started to clear plates. Merlin jumped up and gathered his plate with Gwaine's. Arthur's eyes glanced at his face, his expression unreadable. Merlin started to smile but was met with Arthur's broad back. He frowned and carried dishes into the kitchen.

He saw Arthur's back again, this time while the potter squirted soap on his dishes and frying pan.

“Hey, I can do that,” Merlin said, sidling up next to him. Arthur's jaw rippled, a vein bulging in his neck. He just shook his head. Merlin put his hands in the sink to drop his pile of plates. “You cooked, I'll clean.”

Arthur felt Merlin's body brush against his, his hands winding through the warm, soapy water to nudge against his fingers. His stomach started to churn, his hairline prickling with sweat. He smelled pot roast and potatoes. Lemon kitchen cleaner. 

He pulled his hands out of the water and grasped a dish towel. Did he always have to be such a helper bee? Such a suck up?

“Hey,” Merlin's quiet voice said from behind him. The towel became tight between his hands, so much so that his right hand started to tingle. “Are you--”

“I'm fine,” Arthur snapped, tossing the towel on the counter. He glared straight ahead, able to feel Merlin just about a foot behind him. “Not everything is a big drama, Merlin.”

Merlin stepped towards him.

“When did I say this was a drama? You just seemed--”

“I'm going out.”

Merlin's lips gaped for a moment as he watched Arthur leave the kitchen. He walked into the living room. Arthur had returned, wearing tight black stretch pants and his dark grey winter jacket. A red scarf looped around his neck. He bent over near the front door, sliding Ugg style boots over his socked feet. 

Lance looked up at Merlin and smiled.

“What's up?”

Merlin shook his head and sat on the arm of the sofa.

“Nothing.”

Arthur appeared behind the couch, a backpack looped over his shoulder.

“I'm going out.”

Lance snorted laughter and sat up a bit.

“Where?”

“Out,” Arthur said. He eyed Gwaine, who had dozed off again on the sofa bed, his limbs spread wide. His snore nearly drowned out Top Chef. “You all can stay as long as you like. I'll be back in a couple of hours.”

Gwen twisted into a seated position and smiled kindly at him.

“Where are you going? The whole city is probably closed.”

Arthur forced a smile onto his face. There was no reason to be rude to Gwen. Or anyone. Merlin's eyes burned into his face. He just repeated, “Out,” and turned away. 

The door shut quietly once he left. Lance yawned and snuggled his head back into Gwen's neck. Gwaine sputtered then snored, sleeping like a baby. Merlin crossed his arms over his chest.

“Where did he go?”

“Dunno,” Lance murmured. Gwen's fingers running through his hair sent him into drowsy bliss. “Maybe yoga.”

Merlin sat in the plush arm chair next to the sofa. He itched his chin.

“He does yoga?”

Gwen and Lance nodded in unison, eyes on the television.

“And...We're just going to sit here?”

“You can go sleep in the bed, if you want,” Gwen offered. She thumbed towards Gwaine. “Or nap on the pull out.”

Gwaine turned onto his stomach, his bare feet flopping in Merlin's direction. Merlin decided to stay put on the arm chair.

. . .

Arthur remained on the heated floor of the yoga studio long after everyone else in the class. His body dripped sweat out of every pore, his clothing starting to stick on cooling skin. His eyes were closed, his breathing even, but his head still pounded. He heard familiar feet shuffle closer.

“You alright, Arthur?” 

He nodded from child's pose.

“I'll get up.”

“No, you don't have to.” A warm hand flattened between his shoulder blades. “We only scheduled this class today. The weather is supposed to get worse, so we're all going to head home in a bit.”

Arthur rolled his back and sat up, his instructor still touching him with soothing strokes. He opened his eyes and blinked, his hair boyishly mussed with sweat. He ran his hand through his hair.

“Sorry, I'll get out of your hair.”

She smiled down at him and patted his head.

“Do you need a ride back to your place?”

“No, I'll walk, thanks.”

The wrinkles around her eyes deepened with a smile.

“Don't be silly. There's a foot of snow on the ground! Michael is driving your way.” Arthur recognized the name of one of the pilates instructors. Nice guy, but pilates never worked with his schedule. “He'll drop you.”

Arthur smiled and sat back on his feet. 

“Cool, thanks a lot.”

She ruffled his hair.

“You seemed very tense during class.” Strong fingers massaged into the top of his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Arthur nodded. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, his throat seeming to swell up with each breath he took in.

“I'm fine.”

 

**Wednesday February 20**

Finance wasn't the most interesting class, but it was helpful and involved very little homework. It was important to know about taxes, about selling your art, about budgeting. 

As Merlin packed up his belongings, he hurried to sling his bag over his shoulder and run after Arthur.

“Hey,” he said, touching Arthur's shoulder lightly.

Arthur glanced at him. He swallowed, fingering the straps of his backpack. He'd yet to speak one on one with Merlin since the blizzard. If anything, he was avoiding the painter. Every time they saw each other at group events Merlin would smile at him, unknowing of the night they spent together. Or the Halloween hookup. It was uncomfortable, and not knowing how to handle it made him nervous.

“Yes?” Arthur replied.

Merlin gifted him with one of his toothy smiles, his blue scarf uneven around his neck.

“I was wondering, do you want to do dinner sometime?” The smell of his shampoo chose that moment to reach Arthur's nose, the smell so tempting that the potter had to curl his hands tighter around his backpack straps. “Maybe tonight?”

“With who?”

Merlin laughed, “With me. My treat.”

Perhaps a touch too fast, a bit too brusque, Arthur asked, “Why would we ever do that?”

Merlin's eyes widened, his lips tightening together. He nodded and looked at the ceiling, chuckled something under his breath. The awkwardness rushing through his body was like a numbing agent, but he felt the need to say something.

“I just thought it...Like, as a thank you for all you did the storm night,” he explained softly. He shrugged and stepped backwards. “My mistake.”

Arthur blinked at him. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Merlin had already turned away.

 

**Wednesday March 6**

Gwen sprinkled cilantro on her finished bowl of ceviche and smiled, clapping her hands together. She heard the apartment door open and close.

“That you?”

“Yes, dear,” Lance said, his work shoes clicking on the hard wood floor. “I know better than to be late for Top Chef date night.”

Gwen giggled and carried the bowl into the living room.

“I think tonight's episode is going to be insane,” she said excitedly, making a beeline for the coffee table, which already held two portions of salmon she'd grilled for them, along with a large bowl of brown rice and some broccoli. “I thought seafood would be nice, what do you...” 

Her voice trailed off, a large model home sitting on the coffee table. It was pale blue with white shutters and a wrap around porch. She tilted her head, metal bowl tucked to her stomach.

“What's this?”

“Just something I've been working on.”

Gwen smiled, placing the bowl next to the house.

“I thought you said you finished all your homework earlier?”

“I did.” Lance smirked and sat on the sofa. “This is something extra. I was wondering if you'd have a look? Let me know what you think of the structure.”

“Oh, of course,” Gwen said softly, settling next to him. She ran her fingers over the tiny black shingles of the roof. “You know I love all your designs.”

“I did something a little different with the living room.”

“Oh?”

Lance ate a tortilla stacked high with shrimp ceviche and licked his fingers.

“Yeah,” he grabbed a napkin, “why don't you open the door and let me know what you think? Delicious ceviche, by the way. You're incredible.”

She smiled and nodded, “Sure.” 

Gwen quickly flicked the tiny white door open. Her fingers bumped into something solid. Solid but velvety. She furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head.

“Something is blocking it. I can't see in the door.”

“Ah, shoot. I must have left a piece of shingle in there.” Lance held up his messy hand. “Could you get it for me?” His fingers wiggled. “Don't want to get juice on the wood.”

Without question Gwen shover her slender fingers inside and pulled out a black box.

“Yeah, sure, no--”

Gwen stopped speaking. She gaped at the tiny black box clutched between her fingers. She looked to Lance, who was grinning with a bit of cilantro hanging on to the corner of his mouth. Her mouth was still agape in shock but she reached out, thumbing away the small green fleck.

“Lance, what...” She looked back to the box. “What is this?”

Lance took the box from Gwen's trembling fingers. He opened it and she gasped, her lips popped open.

“Gwen, you know I love you more than anything,” Lance started softly, taking the ring out of the velvet box. He poised the ring near Gwen's finger. “And I would be the luckiest man on earth, if you--”

Gwen's shaking hands nudged Lance's fingers, sending the ring into the deep sea of acid and ceviche.

“Oh, God, I've ruined the proposal! And dinner!” Gwen shouted, digging with both hands into the shrimp. “Holy—Oh, God, I'm the worst.”

Lance laughed and held her hands, both of their hands submerged in ceviche. He plucked the ring out and slid it on her finger.

“Well, this isn't the way I pictured it,” he laughed, the ring slippery with lime juice. “But I would belly flop into a baby pool of ceviche if it would make you say yes.”

“Yes, of course, why is that even a question! Lance, I love you, I love you!” 

She blurted all of that out on a laugh, her arms thrown around his shoulders. Their lips pressed together, both laughing, Gwen's eyes prickled with blissful tears.

 

**Tuesday March 26**

There was a lunch arranged for students nominated for certain awards right before spring break. It was a way for donors and judges to get to know the candidates better. Merlin came in just as people were starting to have drinks; his lunch shift at Mikado ran a little late. 

He had no idea what to expect at this lunch, and the awards were kind of silly. Certain students took it so seriously. In his mind, these awards would be lovely to win, but meant very little. Connections with alumni were important. They could lead to jobs. Getting an award would look good on a resume, obviously. But in the long run, will anyone in the art world remember who won a MIA Cubie, even after only a year or two? 

“Merlin, right?”

He accepted a glass of champagne from an older fellow with neon green eyeglasses. He smiled warmly and nodded.

“Yes?”

“I'm a big fan. My name is Jackson,” the man said, holding his hand out. Merlin shook it. “I've been studying your work and it's seriously impressive.”

As Jackson praised him, he noticed Arthur standing rather close to an older woman. She was beautiful, with a coif of perfect white shoulder length hair, but was definitely over fifty. He leaned in when she whispered in his ear, her hand resting on the small of his back. Merlin smiled at Jackson, stifling the urge to gag at Arthur's behavior. He was so hot and cold that he was a living, breathing tube of Icy Hot.

“Let me give you this,” Jackson said, sliding Merlin a business card. “I own a few hotels, a few B&Bs. Would love to feature your work, commission a few pieces, you know.”

Merlin smiled wide and flushed, fishing a business card out of his pocket.

“Oh, wow, that's amazing of you.” They exchanged cards and he shook Jackson's hand again. “Thank you, wow, just...Thank you!”

Guests were escorted to a long table for lunch, which was apparently Italian food. Merlin watched Arthur grate cheese on top of the woman's plate (which had maybe five pieces of penne on it, compared to Merlin's heaping portion). He refilled the woman's red wine. He helped her put her mink shrug on when she said it was chilly. Merlin just rolled his eyes, speaking to as many alumni and donors as he could.

During desert, a kind arts administration alumni asked Merlin, “What are your plans for after graduation?”

“Um,” Merlin wiped his lips with his napkin, “I've gotten an offer from a gallery in New York.”

“Oh, which one?” Jackson asked.

“Weiss and Guren,” he said, a few donors nodding around him. Weiss and Guren wasn't the largest gallery in New York, but it was well reputed with plenty of big name artists.“I'd be working there full time, but they'd give me a space to show my art. And while I'm there, who knows? Maybe I could network. Maybe I'll look into eventually doing another degree.”

Ronald, who seemed unaffected from almost rimming Merlin months ago, said, “That sounds awesome. I haven't secured anything yet.”

“It's hard. There isn't much. And I'm not sure if I'll take it,” Merlin admitted, shrugging. “It would involve a bit of financial thinking.”

“Well, thank God for your finance class this term,” Gaius butted in, chuckling.

A female voice crackled from the other end of the table, “We're thrilled to be offering Arthur's Baltimore figurines next season.”

Merlin looked up from his cannoli and saw the old woman next to Arthur laughing, her bony fingers rubbing over a purple silk scarf around her neck. “We really couldn't have acquired him at a better time!”

The group all laughed politely in unison, though Merlin wasn't laughing. He narrowed his eyes at the blond. So that explains his coziness with the woman. He did exactly what so many artists do; connect with someone higher than themselves and mooch off of them for whatever they could get. Arthur just smiled at him and sipped his white wine.

The dishes for desert were cleared away and the group made their way to an outdoor garden for a final round of drinks and networking. Arthur went to the bar for a glass of champagne, bumping into Merlin on the way.

“Excuse me,” he said, stepping back from Merlin. 

Merlin just rolled his eyes. He walked next to Arthur to the bar, but didn't get a drink. Instead he slipped a ten dollar bill across the bar and smiled at the bartender, who had been with them all afternoon. Arthur sighed loudly, Merlin glaring at him. 

“For God's sake,” Arthur muttered under his breath, pulling his wallet out. 

He saw Merlin shaking hands with a few judges and donors, obviously preparing to leave. He placed a twenty on the bar top and took a glass of champagne. He returned to the small group he was talking to.

“I think I must be going, Dorothea,” he said, smiling apologetically as he handed her the glass.

“Oh, Arthur, must you?” She reached out to cup his face, tutting her tongue. “It would be a shame to leave so early!”

Arthur smiled and tilted his head away.

“I've got some work to do.”

“Aw, you are the hardest worker,” she cooed, running her fingers over his shoulder. She giggled and looked at the other donors. “Isn't he just delicious?”

Arthur's smile twitched; this was definitely time to make an exit. The last thing he needed was for people to get the wrong idea. He shook a few hands, kissed a few cheeks, and then was on his way. He saw Merlin walking towards the tree lined path that led to Charles Street, a plastic cup with water poised to his lips. It wasn't his fault that they were heading in the same direction.

Merlin heard footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh. It's you,” he deadpanned, facing forward again. 

He sipped his water and heard Arthur's shoes crunch faster on the pebbles. 

“What's your problem?”

Merlin said nothing, just continuing to walk. Arthur caught up to him. 

“You should slow down, or else your girlfriend might not catch up,” Merlin said, smirking to himself.

“What?”

Arthur ran in front of Merlin, their steps halting.

“Your girlfriend,” Merlin said slower, more in the style of Arthur's normal drawl.

“Grow up,” Arthur snapped. The clipped tone made Merlin's eyebrows rise. Arthur never usually showed that much emotion. “I made a connection through networking and I used it. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“I honestly don't care what you do. Ever.”

“You seem to care.”

“I don't care, I'm just embarrassed for you.”

“For me?” Arthur laughed bitterly. “What for? For getting a job?”

Merlin dropped his cup in a trashcan along the path.

“For fucking people for votes.”

“That's false. And you're an idiot,” Arthur said. “I could give a shit about the awards.”

“You think I do? I know this is all fake and has nothing to do with the future.”

“And who I fuck is none of, and will never be any of, your business.”

“Ugh, gross, you definitely had sex with her,” Merlin said, curling his lips in disgust. He shuddered. “Enjoy banging that old lady.” He gave him a thumbs up as he walked briskly. “Very classy.”

“Seriously, you can go fuck yourself,” Arthur drawled. He kept up with Merlin's pace. “What I do or don't do in my career is none of your fucking business.”

“You're right. Nothing about you is my business.”

“Didn't stop you from wanting me on Halloween.”

Merlin stopped walking, Arthur walking two quick steps ahead of him before he realized Merlin was no longer beside him. He turned to the painter, who had lost whatever minor amount of color was left on his face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Halloween,” Arthur restated, savoring Merlin's confused horror. “We hooked up.”

“No, we didn't.”

“We did.”

Merlin tilted his head and confusedly gasped, “We did?”

“We did.”

Merlin's eyes saw red, his voice breathy with fury.

“Why didn't you say anything at the time, you idiot!?”

“I didn't know! I was drunk, too!”

“Then how do you even--”

“Sophia told me days later.”

“If you hate me so much why didn't you---” He gasped, grasping his hair. “What am I even saying?” He jutted two fingers towards Arthur. “You are the one who started sucking on my neck,” he stepped closer with narrowed eyes, “and you are the one who kept dancing with me! You led me to the bedroom!”

“Ugh, stop with the you.”

“And you let me dry hump you!”

Arthur did not retreat from Merlin's steps closer. He simply shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I thought you were someone else.”

“Who!?”

Arthur's fingers clenched on his arms.

“I don't know! You had an eye mask and a mustache drawn on! And a hideous wig, too.”

Merlin almost laughed, if he wasn't feeling the beginnings of vomit rising up his throat.

“Are you kidding me!? A drawn on mustache!? That's your defense?”

Arthur sighed dramatically. “Honestly, who even cares?”

“You brought it up!” Merlin shouted.

“I'm done with this ridiculous conversation.”

Arthur started to walk away, Merlin calling after him, “Just like you don't care that you were the one who kissed me in the hotel?” 

Arthur's posture stiffened immediately, his steps halting. He looked around them, relieved that there were no other students around. 

His relief was momentary. His stomach rumbled with words that ached to be pushed out of his throat by his diaphragm. The belly alphabet soup wouldn't form properly, his lungs clenched and his palms sweating.

Merlin walked up to him, breathing near the back of his neck.

“Stone cold sober, you were,” he softly reminded Arthur. “No drawn on mustaches in sight. Or hideous wigs. You just rolled on top of me and kissed me.” He barely touched Arthur's lower back with two fingers. He heard Arthur inhale sharply and applied pressure. His nose almost brushed against the sweet smelling strands of golden hair behind Arthur's ear. His voice dropped to no more than a whisper. “I remember feeling these two divots of muscle right along here. When you were on top of me.”

Arthur's throat burned. He dropped his face towards the ground and rasped, “That...”

“Or maybe about how we had a perfectly lovely evening during the blizzard,” Merlin said just as soft, his nostrils sending fast puffs of furious air into his blond hair. Arthur's body trembled wildly, his hand clenching the strap of his backpack. “When you slept on the sofa bed with me all night long.”

Arthur spun, his mouth open to protest, but Merlin held his hand up.

“Don't even try to deny it. Gwaine remembered and he told me,” Merlin said, still soft but with a bit more edge to his tone. “He made me promise not to say anything to you, but he told me he slept in your bed all night and he woke and saw us snuggling.”

Arthur's jawline twitched. In his mind, he prayed that was the only outward sign of weakness his body offered Merlin. Talking about these experiences aloud was making him feel woozy. His thumb rubbed over his palm in slow circles, a calming technique his doctor had taught him when he was just a child.

He saw Merlin studying his face while no words were spoken. His stomach started to quiver. It was anger causing the tremble. That had to be it. Merlin was wasting his time and making a mountain out of a mole hill yet again.

It couldn't be that the shakes were from a good place. That they were good shakes. Good nerves. Good feelings at the mirage that formed in his head. Cooking with Merlin. Sleeping with Merlin. Being with Merlin. 

His stomach knotted so tightly he wondered if it would ever relax. He felt ill, as if he was going to vomit, at the thought of such domesticity. That couldn't possibly be it.

“You've got nothing to say?” Merlin asked. “Nothing to say to me?”

“Why would I want to say anything to you?”

Merlin shook his head, eyes sagging with sadness. He knew Arthur was rich, he knew Arthur was a bit of a dick, but he didn't know that he was this intolerably numb.

“You're exactly as I thought you'd be,” he said quietly, still shaking his head. “I don't understand why I'm disappointed, but I am.”

“What are you even talking about? We don't know each other, Merlin,” Arthur stated, anger deepening his voice. The sound drilled into Merlin's chest with each syllable, each flicked consonant. “We're not friends. Stop shaking your head at me like you know me.”

“I don't know you. We've never been friends.”

“We never will be friends.”

“We barely even talk to each other.”

“I know that, so, what? What am I?” Arthur stepped closer. Their chests nearly touched. “C'mon, I can take it.”

Merlin looked down at him, using his slight height advantage for an extra boost.

“You're an arrogant, spoiled, thoughtless asshole.”

Arthur countered, “And you're a goody good, suck up, drama queen.”

Merlin's jaw dropped, his eyes popping out of his head.

“What!? How am I any of those things?”

“You bake birthday cakes for people and give people discounts and extra sauces and are so fucking cutesy about everything in your life,” Arthur said quickly, waving his hand with uneven tension though the air. “Everything is always about you. Everyone loves Merlin and wants Merlin.”

At that particularly childish and weak explanation, Merlin burst out laughing. There was nothing else to do in this strange fight they were having under a tree near a garbage can. Luckily, no other students were witnessing this madness.

Arthur turned away from him with an eye roll. Merlin started to walk next to him.

“So let me get this straight,” Merlin said, still laughing a bit. “Because I baked a birthday cake for a friend, that makes me a suck up?” He laughed even harder. “Extra sauces!?”

“It's not just that,” Arthur argued, avoiding his gaze. “Everything you do it so fucking show offy.”

Merlin threw his hands up in the air.

“You are so fucking off base I can't even stand it!”

“I'm not asking you to stand anything,” Arthur droned, the sound sending rays of fire out of Merlin's eyes. “Just leave me alone.”

“With pleasure,” Merlin absolutely hissed. “I'm sorry that you don't have the emotion or the brain power to care for people; to have friends.”

Arthur stopped walking, causing Merlin to bump into his shoulder.

“I have friends, Merlin. The same ones as you. And I get along with them just fine.” He tilted his head, eyes scanning over Merlin's body. “Also, fuck you very much for calling me spoiled. I know who your parents are. Who your family is.” Merlin's mouth fell open, angry words threatening to spill out. “What, you thought that you could pretend you're just some humble kid from Portland? Please,” Arthur scoffed. “I've been in enough Emrys theaters to make the connection. It took a simple Google.”

Merlin's mouth popped open to ask, “You Googled--” Then his brain processed what Arthur said and his eyes darkened. “My mother has worked hard her entire life and taught me to do the same,” he ground out. Now his voice was showing actual anger, his face warped with rage. “My father died when I was a baby and left his business to her. She made it what it is today--” 

“Fine, fine, blah blah,,” he shrugged and continued speaking over Merlin. “Your family isn't as wealthy as mine, though very few are, but don't even try to pull the poor kid act. You're just as spoiled as I am.”

“Spoiled?” Merlin laughed. “Spoiled? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with you calling me spoiled,” Arthur said. “Obviously.”

Merlin unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. He was perspiring as if he'd run a marathon, his neckline damp. He nearly groaned at the cool air that brushed against his neck once it was freed from the sticky fabric.

“This conversation has veered so far from reality that I'm not sure how to even continue it,” Merlin murmured.

“Good, then we're done here.” Arthur waggled his fingers at him, offering a sickly sweet smile. “Bye bye, best friend forever.”

Merlin found himself walking next to Arthur, his mouth running without his control.

“By the way, you should see a doctor for your severe Baltimore crack addiction, because you must be smoking something to think everyone wants me.”

“I'm not your psychologist, Merlin,” Arthur sighed, hitching his backpack on his shoulder. His almond rounded eyes did a quick glance to Merlin's red face. “I don't care about people wanting you.”

“Oh, you don't?” Merlin asked, though it sounded nothing like a question. More like a taunt. He ran around to stand in front of him, his hands on his hips. He licked his bottom lip, eyes set with determination. “Then why did you bring it up?”

Arthur said nothing and went to move past him. Merlin blocked his way, both standing under yet another tree. 

“I've asked people on dates and been turned down plenty of times,” Merlin said low in his throat. “You included. Though you probably have no recollection of that.” He didn't seem sad, more like frustrated to be bringing up a painful memory. “And maybe you've forgotten,” He laughed lightly, rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, “but my last, and only, boyfriend left the fucking country to dump me.” He narrowed his eyes at Arthur. “So you're sorely mistaken.”

“Don't even bring him up,” Arthur bristled with a dismissive wave of his hand. “That guy was a dirtbag. Not worth the dried paint on your embarrassing shoes.”

Merlin's eyes widened and he looked from his shoes back to Arthur, a bit of the tension removed from his body and replaced with curiosity.

“What makes you say that?”

Arthur's nose wrinkled, his head shaking involuntarily while staring at a spot in the distance.

“He was an asshole. He was drunk constantly and loud and rude. Even I could tell he was taking advantage of your generosity.” He itched under his chin. “He was a shit painter, too.” He looked to Merlin's face, which was surprisingly not angry. He looked rather calm, his full lips agape and his eyes round as saucers. “What?”

“I just...I didn't think you knew him at all.”

“I didn't know him.”

“Then how...”

Merlin's voice trailed off, his eyes unfocused. Arthur could see that the fight had been drained from his body. Too many wounds had been gauged at once. Merlin wasn't a natural fighter. He was too...Too...

His stomach started to flutter again. 

“I could just see, alright?” Arthur offered softly. Merlin perked up, his head tilted at Arthur. “Just from watching him with you. Whenever we'd bump into each other.”

“I didn't seem happy?”

“You did, at first. But then,” Arthur looked away from Merlin's thoughtful eyes, pressing his lips together. “Then he just...He seemed to be not right for you.”

“Do you often watch me in public?”

Arthur's lips curled into a small smirk. 

“Well, you're such a natural show off that I had no other choice.”

Merlin twitched his head back, a matching smile forming on his face.

“Did you just...Did you make a joke?”

“At your expense?” Arthur mulled it over for a second then nodded, rubbing his chin. “I believe I did, yes.”

Merlin was so confused, so baffled at what their conversation (fight) had become that he just laughed, “Wh-What is...What...”

Their eyes met, a breeze flowing through the low hanging branches of the cherry tree they were standing under. A small shower of cherry blossoms rained on their heads. Arthur lifted his hand and brushed a flower off his nose, laughing softly and pushing it to the ground. Merlin's ears pounded from the inside, his heart beating out of his chest. 

This moment of calm felt natural, necessary, after the battle royale they had just participated in. The venom had been sucked from their bodies. A cathartic rest was needed. It was strange as fuck, but what about their relationship wasn't strange as fuck?

When they glanced at each other again his heart only beat faster, Arthur's cheeks dappled with flush. Merlin looked at his lips. Their eyes met when he realized Arthur was looking at his lips as well, their bodies barely a foot apart. 

Another breeze brought down a light flurry of blossoms. Merlin's fingers delicately pushed one off of Arthur's shoulder. The motion caused Arthur's breath to catch in his throat, his fingers twitching towards Merlin's hair.

“You've got a...” Arthur's voice trailed off, his feet swaying him closer. He ran his fingers through Merlin's hair and watched a flower tumble off his head and onto his shoulder. “Just a...”

Merlin involuntarily leaned into Arthur's hand when it neared his face. The smell of Arthur's cologne mixed with sweet cherry blossoms. He squinted at the potter, who did not remove his hand from the side of Merlin's neck.

“I have this sudden urge to...”

Arthur softly asked, “To what, Merlin?” and seemed so earnest, so awake.

Merlin stared at his plump lips, his own mouth gaped open just to breath in more of Arthur's sweet cherry skin.

“To--”

“Merlin! Hey!”

Merlin's next thought died on his tongue, his eyes blinking in surprise. Arthur dropped his hand and glared over his shoulder at whoever was interrupting their argument. His anger softened, posture straightening up.

“And Arthur, right?” Leon said, standing to the side of them with a warm smile. He patted both on their shoulders. “Nice to see you both again.”

“Y-Yes,” Merlin stammered, cheeks rosy. He took a step away from Arthur, sucking in normal air again. “And you, too! Great to see you again.”

Though Leon said he was happy to see both, Arthur watched the visible spark from Merlin to Leon. He was not a forgetful type. He remembered watching Leon chat with Merlin at MOMA years ago. 

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked in what he hoped came off as a friendly, calm way. He smiled as wide as his mouth would allow. “It's great to see you again.”

“You're too kind,” Leon chuckled. “I was supposed to be at the lunch but my train ran terribly late. Some electrical issues.”

“Ah, well...” Merlin smiled tightly. His brain raced for something to say, He spit out, “It was a good lunch.” Very eloquent, he thought to himself. “Good food.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. Merlin hated the he could hear Arthur thinking, 'Very eloquent,' in his own head.

“I'm one of the judges for the Rockefeller.”

Merlin's eyebrows rose, Arthur looking from student to judge. 

“Oh, that's interesting,” Merlin said, Arthur still annoyingly to his side.

“Yeah, I've really enjoyed looking over everyone's portfolios.” He glanced at Arthur, but was staring directly at Merlin when he quietly said, “Some seriously impressive work.”

Merlin felt his ears go hot, his cheeks burning just red. He could feel Arthur staring at him. When he looked at the potter he could practically hear him talking in his head.

With one quirk of his head Arthur was able to convey, 'Have fun fucking for votes,' to Merlin without saying a single word.

“Well, I must be going,” Arthur said with their eyes locked. Merlin twitched at his statement, his head shaking just a touch from side to side. Arthur smiled at Leon and held his hand out. “Great to see you again, sir.”

Leon shook his hand with both hands.

“Yes, I'm sure I'll see you soon at the, uh,” Leon laughed and blinked rapidly, “awards thing in a couple of weeks. I need to get my assistant to give me access to my schedule. I can't keep track of the days anymore.”

Arthur grinned the same kind of sickly fake smile, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Lovely,” he said, releasing Leon's hands. He looked to Merlin. “Take care.”

He looped his thumbs in his backpack straps and walked away. Merlin watched the back of his hair sway in the warm spring breeze, a final flower falling from the crown of his head down his broad back.

“Say, you wouldn't want to get a quick bite to eat with me, would you?”

Merlin looked to Leon, who laughed.

“Are you alright, Merlin?” He followed where Merlin's gaze had been, watching Arthur walk along a tree lined path that led towards Charles street. “Was he bothering you?”

“Arthur? No,” Merlin laughed nervously. He cracked his pointer finger with his thumb. “No, not at all.” He smiled and noticed a flower lodged in one of Leon's soft blond curls. “You've got...Uh...”

“Hm?”

Leon's eyes darted upward. He chuckled and swatted the flower off, Merlin checking his own hair for renegade flowers. He snagged one from over his head, thumbing the velvet smooth petals.

“Yeah, food would be great,” Merlin said, smiling wider at Leon's happy flush. 

“You're not full from lunch? I don't want to put you out.”

Merlin patted his stomach and jutted his hips forward.

“Something you'll learn about me, is I can eat at any hour of any day and I'll still be ready for more.”

Leon laughed, the soft, warm sound spreading over Merlin like a cuddly blanket. 

“Good to know. I'll keep that in mind,” Leon said, light eyes sparkling. “Wanna go to Sasha's? I remember they had this incredible chicken salad sandwich last time I was in town.”

They started walking towards the path, Merlin excitedly saying, “The chicken salad with grapes and walnuts on fresh sourdough?”

Leon snapped his fingers.

“Yes! That sandwich is so good.”

“It's a flawless sandwich!”

That got Leon to laugh again, Merlin laughing along with him.

“What?” Merlin asked, buttoning his shirt up to his neck. “What's funny?”

“A flawless sandwich,” Leon repeated, fondness already vibrating from him to Merlin. He smiled wider. “You're just...You're very charming.”

Merlin's throat bobbed beneath the tightened material, his smile shaky. He didn't know how many more extremes he could take in the span of thirty minutes.

“Um, thanks?”

Leon gently squeezed his shoulder.

“It's a good thing,” he said softly. 

. . .

Dr. Tristan clicked his pen and dropped it on his desk, his fingers massaging the bridge of his nose. He stood from his desk and stretched his arms over his head. There was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” he called absently. “Come in.”

The door opened, but it wasn't his secretary. He looked up from the file. He smiled, confused but pleased.

“Arthur,” he said, gesturing him into the plush office. “Please come in. Everything alright?”

Arthur shut the door behind himself and stood by the door. He nodded, dropping his backpack next to a maroon leather sofa.

“Yes,” he nodded, “I'm fine.”

Dr. Tristan laughed, “Arthur, you can't fool me. I've been listening to your thoughts for almost four years.” He patted his broad shoulder. “I can't be fooled.” He looked at his watch, his smile fading. “But I actually am on my way out. Dinner plans with the wife.” Arthur's eyes dropped to the floor. “Can we set something up for next week?”

“Sure, no problem. Sorry, to just burst in like this,” Arthur said quickly, bending for his backpack. 

The doctor studied Arthur's face, then sighed a smile.

“Sit down. Let's talk.”

Arthur's brows furrowed as he looked up at the doctor.

“But dinner with your wife?”

“Eh, I'll text her.” He whipped his phone from his pocket. “Don't even worry about it.” He tilted his head towards the couch. “Please, sit. I'll be right back.”

Arthur sat on the sofa, running his hands through his hair. When Dr. Tristan returned Arthur's hair was fluffed around his head in all directions. The doctor laughed.

“Nice hair.”

Arthur looked up at his hair, smiling sheepishly.

“Thanks.”

“So.” Dr. Tristan crossed his right leg over his left, sitting across from Arthur. “What's up?”

“I just had a fight. With Merlin. I had a fight with Merlin.”

Dr. Tristan raised an eyebrow, his pen tapping his bottom lip. 

“About what?”

Arthur's face scrunched and he suddenly looked childish, his lips pouted forward and his brows furrowed. 

“About...About,” Arthur's eyes bulged, “everything. About nothing. About everything and nothing and all the shit we've been through for our entire college career.”

“Could you be more specific?”

Arthur's eyes traced the floor. He'd always liked the carpet in Dr. Tristan's office; taupe with vibrant maroon accent stripes. He focused on a stripe near Dr. Tristan's black shoe.

“He accused me of sleeping with this old woman who is giving me a gig.”

“The statues,” Dr. Tristan said, his lips twitching. “And why did that upset you?”

“Because it's not true,” Arthur insisted. His face snarled again. “And it's just Merlin running his mouth, as usual.”

“What else did you talk about?”

“Oh, that just led to us rehashing every time we, uh,” Arthur's words slowed, his eyes darting from the stripe to his doctor, “kind of...” His eyes dropped back to the floor. “Were physical together.”

Dr. Tristan's pen stopped writing.

“I see.”

Arthur shook his head, biting his bottom lip. The doctor shifted in his leather armchair.

“Do you remember what you told me after the hotel incident?”

“That I was horny.”

Dr. Tristan chuckled softly at his blunt tone. 

“That's right. But you also said that you wanted to see what it would be like, to be with Merlin.”

“Right.”

“Do you remember what you told me after the snow storm?”

After a beat, Arthur nodded, his hands clasped in his lap.

“That I wanted to see what the fuss was about,” Arthur said. His words were clipped, his throat thick. “Holding him. Since...With Gwaine always...” His lips pressed together, his hand twitching in the air. “I just wanted to see what was so special about him.”

“And did you find it special?”

“Yes,” Arthur admitted begrudgingly. “I did. Intimate. Moreso than...I dunno.”

“You enjoy being with Merlin,” Dr. Tristan said in his calm, relaxed voice. “You feel drawn to Merlin. Whether it's Merlin who initiates physical contact, or you who initiates physical contact, you enjoy it.”

“I do,” Arthur said, his voice gasping out of his throat. He hurried to firmly add, “On a strictly physical level. I've never denied that he's not hideous looking.”

“And today you fought.”

“We did.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Arthur laughed in disbelief.

“Because he started shit with me. Because he purposely pushed my buttons. He just loves to rile me up.”

“And you don't think that you do the same to him?”

Arthur scoffed, “Psh,” and shook his head. “I barely even talk to him. We barely speak, other than these few isolated incidents that have happened.”

“But somehow you both know quite a lot about each other.” Dr. Tristan placed his pen on the coffee table and rested his face on his palm. “You keep tabs on each other. You care for each other.”

“I don't--” Arthur shook his head. “No. It's not like that.”

“Arthur, I'm going to speak frankly to you, because I know how far you've come. I know how strong you are. I know that you don't even really need me anymore. You can handle anything that comes your way.”

Arthur nodded, swallowing audibly. He ran his hand over his lips and flicked his eyes to the doctor. 

“Okay. Say whatever you want to say.”

Quietly, carefully, Dr. Tristan offered, “I think that you have feelings for Merlin. Deep, loving, intimate feelings unlike anything you've ever had before. And I'm going to guess that Merlin shares those feelings.”

Arthur blinked at the doctor, who was smiling at his patient. The blond threw his head back, raucous laughter filling the room.

“You should schedule an appointment with yourself,” Arthur attempted to say through his laughter, his stomach aching. He wiped his hands under his eyes, still giggling. “Jesus Christ. I love Merlin? I'm going to wet myself!” 

That sent him into another round of laughter, his rolling laugh so addictive that Dr. Tristan started to chuckle.

“You may not see it, Arthur. Maybe I'm incorrect. But I would explore that avenue. It's worth a shot.”

Arthur snuffled and shook his head, still laughing in disbelief.

. . .

Leon put his hands in his pocket, smiling wider than he had in some time. He turned a corner and caught a face full of sunlight. The tiny, almost unnoticeable frizzies on the hair curled near Merlin's ears were illuminated.

“And then, to pair that sandwich with that cream of carrot soup, was just an incredible choice,” Merlin chattered, his hands gesturing in front of himself. Leon could practically see him creating a cauldron of soup in the air. “I don't know how they got it so smooth. I wonder if they use an immersion blender? I should invest in one of those. I love soup.”

They stopped walking on front of Merlin's building, which coincidentally used to be Leon's building when he was a MIA student.

“You love soup,” Leon restated, turning to face Merlin. Merlin laughed and lifted his hand, rubbing behind his neck. “Good to know.” Leon leaned closer, his voice softer. “I'll have to take you to someplace with an array of soups next time.”

Merlin smiled at him with his hand still laced in his hair. Leon had insisted on paying for their lunch. He said it was his good deed towards the starving artist.

“Was this...” Merlin lowered his hand, his head tilting in question. He squinted slightly. “A date?”

“I'd like to think so,” Leon said honestly, no shyness to be found in his voice or expression. He bit his bottom lip, the right side of his mouth rising in a small smile. “I like you, Merlin.” Merlin tried to calm himself, but this was a man who had come face to face with Brad Pitt. BRAD PITT. And Leon was admitting to liking him. “And I tend to go pretty strong for things I like.”

Merlin nodded along with his words. His eyes mischievously crinkled.

“You did snatch that cheese danish away before that old lady could get it.”

Leon laughed, “Shut up,” and gave his shoulder a gentle shove, Merlin laughing and leaning closer. They both rested their shoulders on the wide stone bannister of the building stoop. “I hope that's not...Too forward.”

“It's not. I'm just...A little shocked, to be honest.”

“Why?”

“Um, just because--”

Merlin stopped talking, his eyes fluttering shut. Leon's soft lips were pressed against his mouth, the sweet remnants of cheese danish shared between them while they kissed. Leon's hands were warm on his hips, one of his hands flattening on his lower back.

“Sorry,” Leon whispered, pulling away. His eyes sparkled mischievously, his curls tickling Merlin's forehead. “Too forward?”

Merlin blinked at him, laughing, “No, not—No, not at all. It...That was nice.”

Leon's smile widened.

“Good.” He pecked Merlin's lips. “I'm in town for a couple of days.” He raised his eyebrows. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“Uh,” Merlin hated that his brain was short circuiting so severely that he couldn't think of anything else to say but uh, “yes, that's...That sounds great.”

“Nice.” Leon pressed a final soft kiss to Merlin's cheek and whispered, “See you soon.”

Merlin watched Leon walk back in the direction of MIA. He remembered Leon saying something about having a meeting that night. Then he remembered that he was just on a date with the world famous artist Leon Lane, who kissed him multiple times on his stoop. Merlin brushed his fingers over his mouth, biting his bottom lip thoughtfully. He walked up his steps, his brain trying to catch up to everything that had just happened.

Unbeknownst to Merlin, Arthur had been standing in the park across from his apartment, watching their entire interaction. The potter felt such an incredible stab in his lower belly that he had to sit on a bench, his legs shaking.

The little flings Merlin might have had were all useless. None of them would mean anything in the long run. Elliot was a drunk clown. He held Merlin's attention for a few months, but he posed no threat. He was a sham artist and a leech on Merlin's life. Arthur knew he'd be gone before the end of a semester.

Leon Lane.

Leon Lane would be a problem. A charming, talented, attractive, well connected, unbelievably kind problem. He was end game. He was someone that Merlin could, and likely would, fall madly in love with for the rest of their lives. And based on Leon pursing Merlin so aggressively, Merlin didn't stand a chance.

Arthur saw the light in Merlin's studio go on and sighed.

“Fucking Dr. Tristan,” he whispered to himself, clenching his eyes shut.

 

**Friday March 29**

Steps was packed with the normal Friday night rush. Merlin stopped in to grab a bottle of red wine. Leon had invited him over for dinner, he couldn't go empty handed.

“Hey, Merlin. Can I talk to you?”

Merlin saw Arthur standing next to him. He processed the words that came out of Arthur's mouth.

“Yeah, what's up?”

Arthur looked at the ground, running his hand through his hair. 

“Uh, I was just wondering, what are your plans this weekend?”

Merlin's eyes squinted hesitantly.

“Not sure. Why?”

Arthur's eyes bore into his, the potter's gaze unwavering. He smiled a genuine, soft smile, and the wave of tingles that shot through Merlin's body nearly knocked him over. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to get together?” Did Arthur sound...hopeful? “Like for dinner or drinks? Whatever you want.”

“Why would we ever do that?” Merlin said, just a hint of snark in his tone. Those were Arthur's words, after all. 

Arthur's lips pressed together, shielding his teeth.

“I deserve that,” he said, shrugging. “That was rude of me when you...When you asked last time.”

Merlin gaped at him. Was this the same Arthur he'd known for almost four years? It wasn't until someone gently cleared their throat behind them that Merlin looked away from Arthur's face, his goddamn earnest, handsome face.

They stepped closer to the register. Merlin burst out laughing, his hand flying to his mouth. He shook his head.

“You're seriously asking me out? After our blowout the other day?”

“I think that fight was a good thing,” Arthur reflected quietly. He cradled his pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream in his palm. “I don't like what I said to you, or how I spoke to you. That was wrong and I'm sorry that our talk got nasty. But I think we needed to get all that out.”

Merlin fingered a Mounds display, desperate to do something other than listen to Arthur's deep voice as it vibrated near his ear. 

“So, what do you think?”

“I'm kind of...” Merlin shifted the bottle of wine to his left arm. “I'm...”

“You're seeing Leon Lane,” Arthur stated, bored. Merlin's eyes flickered to him. “I get that. He's a logical choice for you. But he's not me, and I'm the right choice for you.”

Merlin laughed again, stepping to the counter. He held his bottle up to the cashier, pulling his wallet out.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, I'm not,” Arthur said, placing his ice cream on the counter. “And when we go out, I don't want to have even a single drink. I don't want you to have a drink. I want you sober. I'm tired of pretending I'm not attracted to you or that I don't want you. I'm tired of only fooling around when we're drunk.”

Merlin's eyes widened cartoonishly. The other people on line around them were very interested in Arthur's calm speech. It was like watching a mini soap opera live.

“You...You want me?” Merlin said, laughing again. He laughed when he was nervous, and Arthur's words were drilling into his core, shaking him form the inside out. “Since when?”

“Probably since a long time ago.”

Merlin cackled and shook his head. 

“That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard in my life!”

“I'm serious, Merlin.” He noticed that they had an audience and lowered his voice. “I'm telling the truth.”

Merlin quirked his legs, balancing the bottom of the wine bottle on his hip. 

“Then how do you explain your years of indifference and blatant rudeness to me, hm?”

Arthur's cheeks heated at the interested hums around them, but he soldiered onward. 

“Just imagine every time I was rude to you or ignored you. I want you to imagine those times, and then know that each and every time I behaved that way, it was because I couldn't stop thinking of you.” 

Merlin's body shook visibly, his knuckles white his was clutching the bottle so tight. His cheeks were rosy, his lips open while he panted shocked breaths. He stepped closer, his voice even softer. 

“I didn't know what to do, because we were supposed to hate each other, but...I just...” He took a deep breath and quickly exhaled it. “I just used it as a defense mechanism.”

Merlin tried to breathe normally, but the bottle was getting clammy in his sweaty hands. He gulped and smiled, eyes widening. 

“And now what? You're wooing me in Steps?”

Arthur's lips quirked in a small smile.

“Very classy, yes?” He smiled properly at Merlin's answering laugh. “I'm not going to try anything if you're with him.” He placed a twenty on the counter before Merlin could get his money out. “I find that to be distasteful. I'm not into it.”

“Wait, did you just pay for my wine?”

“I did,” Arthur said, grabbing his ice cream. He smiled at the man behind the counter. “Keep the change.” 

He turned away. Merlin called after him, “What makes you think I even want you?”

Arthur smiled and turned around. He tilted his head, the tendons of his neck sticking out of his loose black v-neck.

“You don't want me?”

The patrons of the store looked from Arthur to Merlin, the registers silent.

“I...” Merlin's mouth stuck open. He shrugged one shoulder. “No. I mean,” he sighed and looked away, able to feel eyes all over his body, “I...I dunno.” Lie, he thought, and Arthur's smirk told him that the word LIE was flashing red over his forehead. “I...Don't think so.”

Arthur chuckled and backed out of the door.

“Bye, Merlin.”

 

**Sunday March 31**

Arthur groaned into a towel, his back muscles kneaded with deep, Swedish strokes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighed until his breath was physically pushed from his body on a pained gasp. 

His therapist Amy commented, “So tight today,” softly. “School stress?”

“No, school's fine.” A bit sadder, he added, “School's almost done.”

“Then what is it?”

Arthur turned his neck, his cheek now resting on the headrest.

“I'm not used to competing to get someone to want to be with me.”

She chuckled and focused her hands on his left side.

“Someone is making you work?”

“Kind of. That sounds ridiculous, I know, but...I just don't know what to do.”

She smoothed her hands down to his lower back, massaging in slow, soothing circles.

“So you'll just have to work for him or her.”

“How?”

“Jesus, Arthur, haven't you ever seen a romantic comedy?”

Arthur ran through the rolodex in his head of romcoms he might have accidentally watched in full (every time they happened to be on television). It Could Happen to You and You've Got Mail topped his list of must watch movies, though he would never admit that aloud.

“Of course I have.”

“So? Do that.”

He snorted as she draped the sheet over his back, moving down to do his legs.

“I think it's a little too late to start an online relationship with them. Or try to lose them in ten days. Or something of that sort.”

She laughed, “Just be yourself.”

“That hasn't worked out well in the past.”

“Whoever they are, they'd be lucky to have you.” She lifted the sheet and tucked it over his thigh. “And I'm not just saying that because I've seen your fantastic ass.”

Arthur laughed, his body vibrating under her fingers.

 

**Tuesday April 2**

Merlin heard footfalls on the steps outside his apartment. Gwen called, "Merlin, we're coming in," as her key scraped the lock. 

He folded the final drop cloth and placed it on Mordred's arm chair. He was prepping the studio for Gwen and a friend from the Bilt, who needed a space to rehearse for some composers recital later in the week. He walked into the living room and smiled at Gwen, her hair wild like a lion's mane around her head. She always sort of gave up when stress set in.

"I can put a pot on for tea, if you...”

His voice trailed off. Arthur walked in behind her with a large, cello-shaped backpack hanging off his shoulders. The blond glanced at him with a small smile then looked to the ground, his thumbs looped over the straps of his bag. 

Merlin quietly finished, "If you both want tea."

"That sounds lovely," Gwen's voice chirped. She looked from Merlin to Arthur, her curls bobbing in the air. "Right, Arthur?"

Arthur's eyes widened ever so slightly, as if that was enough to warrant a positive response.

"Sure."

Gwen said, "C'mon, I've got to warm up a little," and gestured for Arthur to follow her. She smiled gratefully at Merlin. "Thank you again for letting us run through this. The Bilt rooms are absolutely packed solid."

"Yeah, sure, no problem."

Gwen and Arthur's voices mingled as they set up their instruments. There was a gentle shuffle of paper, a few quick strokes of Arthur's bow over his strings, a few twists of flesh on metal as Gwen tightened her instrument. Merlin busied himself on the sofa, resuming his typing. He heard Arthur quietly comment, "Wow, he even has stands in here?"

The door clicked shut. Twenty minutes went by, during which Merlin fell into a Wikipedia hole, put a kettle on for tea, Facebooked a boy he had a crush on in fifth grade, and did absolutely no work on his paper. Normally, when Gwen would come practice he felt motivated to work. Hearing her run scales over and over, and go over passages multiple times, was inspirational.

It was nearly impossible to concentrate on his classwork when he could hear Arthur's cello singing sweet, amber tones from the next room. The kettle hissed for over a minute before Merlin realized that was not Gwen playing along to the duo. He hated to interrupt their rehearsal to ask how Arthur took his tea.

He walked to the door and listened to their playing. The music came to a cadence, and he could hear them chatting to each other. He cracked the door and saw Arthur's muscled arms reaching around the body of his cello to write something on his music in pencil. The tip of his tongue just touched the top left corner of his lips. Merlin looked away from Arthur's lips (arms, fingers, pencil, everything) and knocked gently.

Gwen laughed, "You live here. You don't have to knock."

"Just wanted to see how you like your tea," Merlin said to the back of Arthur's head.

Arthur looked over his shoulder, the pencil resting between his index and middle finger.

"Light and sweet, please."

"Like Merlin," Gwen laughed.

She quickly realized that she was the only person laughing at her little joke. She cleared her throat and shuffled her music.

"We should only need another half hour or so," she said, glancing to Arthur.

"Yeah, that should do it."

"Cool," Merlin said. He backed out of the room, face burning from Arthur's blank stare. "I'll get your tea ready."

In an effort to further avoid his paper, he took out a plate and placed a handful of shortbread cookies on it. He poured their tea and prepared it. Gwen took her tea black with no sugar, a total contrast to Arthur's milky cup. He curled his fingers around the mug handles and carried the plate of cookies in his opposite hand.

Arthur and Gwen looked up while packing their instruments.

"Oh my God, are those your shorties?" Gwen said quickly, abandoning her flute to lunge towards the cookie plate. Merlin smiled and nodded, Gwen already biting one in half. "Arthur, try one. Merlin makes the best cookies and cakes." A few crumbs crumbled down her lips and she laughed, holding her hand to her mouth. "I swear. Try one." Her phone vibrated on the music stand. She grabbed it. "Oh, it's my mom."

She left the studio, her mouth struggling to speak without exhaling crumbs everywhere. Arthur plucked a cookie as if it were a chocolate covered tarantula, Merlin handing him his mug of tea.

"Didn't poison this, did you?" Arthur asked, holding the tea to his lips.

Merlin let out a breathy laugh.

"No. Though this past season of Dexter makes me want to learn more about botany."

"Oh, man," Arthur's eyes lit up over the ridge of his mug, "did you see last week's episode?"

"Yeah!" Merlin picked up on Arthur's enthusiasm, a wide smile spread across his face. "Isn't Isaak the coolest bad guy they've had in a while?"

"Yeah! He's so--"

Arthur glanced at Gwen, his mouth sealing shut. He swallowed and jutted his head backwards.

“I'll pack up.” He held his mug up. “Thanks for the tea.”

Gwen pulled Merlin into the kitchen for some talk time. Engagement party planning had become her full time job. They sat at his kitchen table, Merlin sketching her engagement ring on a napkin while he smiled at her babbling, offering commentary when needed.

Merlin got up to use the bathroom and walked past the studio. He saw Arthur bending over in the corner, where he kept extra paintings that didn't make the cut for exhibits. His face heated and he walked into the room.

“What are you--”

“Dropped my tuner,” Arthur said, standing up straight. He opened his palm, revealing a small electric tuner. He shrugged. “Butterfingers.”

Merlin peered at him, but stepped out of the room.

“Alright. Whatever.”

“Thanks for the studio space,” Arthur said, hitching his cello onto his back.

When Merlin left his apartment hours later in search of food, he returned and saw a small cardboard box in front of his door. He hummed and stepped over it to bring his groceries inside. He grabbed the box and brought it into the kitchen.

“What on earth?” he laughed, pulling packing peanuts out. 

He pulled the smooth blue bowl out of the box, a box of pasta already sitting in the bowl. Merlin laughed, his eyes frantically taking in every inch of the gift. Only one person could have set this up. 

“Arthur,” he whispered.

 

**Wednesday April 3**

Merlin grabbed his bag and a water bottle on his way out of his apartment. He threw the door open and ran into the hallways. His shoe bumped into the small white cardboard box. He pulled his foot back and hummed, squatting down to pick it up. 

His stomach fluttered with such butterflies that he nearly dropped the delivery. He jogged to his kitchen and placed it on the counter. He took one of his steak knives and slid it along the clear tape seam. He opened the box and pushed the bubble paper aside. That could be played with later.

He blinked down at the open box.

"What?"

He pulled out the small dragon sculpture. Not just any dragon, but a red and orange dragon that he had painting over a year ago. The figurine had perfectly spaced scales, details galore, and weighed next to nothing. No wonder that old lady was so obsessed with Arthur's work.

He turned the delicate piece of art in his hands, his eyes peering at it as if it was made of magic.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, his cheeks aching he was smiling so wide. “How did he...”

Then he remembered. Arthur said he dropped something, but maybe he was just snooping? That idea was strangely sweet. He put the dragon on his kitchen table, smiling like a fool at it. He pulled his cell out of his pocket, thumb lingering on Arthur's name. He giggled and replaced his phone in his pocket. Let's see what else he could do.

 

**Thursday April 4**

Merlin practically ran to the door when he heard something deposited on his doormat. He pulled the door open, but no one was around. He pouted.

His pout disappeared when he saw the larger box waiting for him. He looked left and right before bending over and scooping it into his arms. 

He ran into the apartment and opened it, finding two pieces inside the box. 

“Oh my God,” he laughed, pulling out a ceramic figurine of brie. The artist had even gone so far as to perfectly match it to the smudge of brie that was on the serving platter during orientation. He turned it over in his hands before placing it next to his bowl and dragon. He pulled the second piece out and laughed even harder. “What a fucking pervert!”

The second piece was two figurines, one of Merlin and one of what Merlin guessed was the artist who blew him at the first warehouse party during freshman year. They were attached at Merlin's groin.

“I can't believe him,” he laughed, turning the figures over in his hands. His laughter went more towards frantic breathing, his body warm and tingling. “He likes me,” he whispered to himself, rubbing his thumb over his own ceramic O face. He smiled and walked into his bedroom. The blow job sculpture probably didn't go with the other, work safe creations.

 

**Friday April 5**

Leon opened the door to his apartment.

“Hey there,” he said, smiling happily. He gestured Merlin inside. “So good to see you.”

Merlin laughed and dropped his bag at the door, toeing his shoes off. Leon's apartment was on par with Morgana's in terms of chic luxury.

“We just had dinner last night.”

“Well, I missed you.”

Leon kissed his neck and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Merlin melted into him, inhaling the grassy smell of Leon's shampoo. He liked most things as organic and natural as possible.

“C'mon in. You wanna order Chinese or something?”

Merlin studied the ceiling while Leon kissed from behind his ear to his collar bone. He wondered if he should be thinking about how good it felt to be kissed there, instead of how he had no idea what they would talk about for the amount of time it took to wait for Chinese and then eat it.

“I'm not that hungry, actually,” Merlin said, Leon walking him backwards into the apartment. He giggled when he felt stubble tickling under his ear. “Drinks maybe?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Leon opened a bottle of wine and they settled on his sofa. Merlin's fingers itched to turn on the television, but Leon wasn't much of a television watcher.

“What are you going to wear tomorrow?”

Merlin hummed, tapping his fingers on his knee.

“I dunno. Normal black suit and white shirt, I guess. Should I wear a tie?”

Leon's fingers brushed the side of Merlin's neck.

“No, it would be a shame to cover this up.”

Merlin smiled and leaned into his hand, tilting his head. Leon's fingers brushed over his lips.

“These too,” he said before pecking him. 'Too gorgeous to not be on display at all times.”

Merlin giggled and sucked gently on Leon's top lip, pulling back for a tender kiss.

“Did you win anything your senior year?”

“Well, I won the Rockefeller,” Leon admitted shyly, dropping his gaze from Merlin's face. “A couple of other things.” He deepened his voice to sound similar to Gaius. “A Cubie.”

Merlin laughed, laying back on the arm of the sofa. He bent his legs, Leon resting against his knees.

“That's cool.”

Leon rested his chin on Merlin's knees. Merlin frowned.

“What's up?”

“Just...I mean, you'll find out tomorrow, but...” He sighed, biting his bottom lip. “I'm sorry, you didn't get the Rockefeller.”

Merlin blinked at him, lips pursed. Though he wasn't heartbroken, it still stung to hear you didn't win something. He exhaled a breathy laugh.

“Oh.”

Leon pulled him into a hug.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. He hugged him tighter. “You won a bunch of other awards, though. Rightfully so.”

“No, it's fine. Honestly,” Merlin said. He laughed again, ruffling Leon's hair and pulling away. “It was an honor to be nominated.”

“It's just silly that a television show would change the outcome of a very important award.”

Merlin's laughter quieted. He squinted curiously at him.

“What?”

“That's why Anna Chui is getting the Rockefeller. She just found out she's going to be on the next season of Project Runway, and MIA can't really pass up that kind of publicity.”

“That's...” Merlin just shook his head, laughing in disbelief. “It makes sense, though it's disappointing they would play into that.” 

What he really meant, was that it was disappointing to hear Leon be so okay with this. For someone who was forward, he had a pretty stunted way of thinking. He tried to imagine someone telling Arthur who to vote for or what to do.

"Merlin," Leon laughed softly, his hand covering the top of Merlin's hand. "I wish it wasn't this way, but it is."

"It is what it is."

Leon's eyes crinkled with sympathy.

"I know it is. Just know, you probably would have won. You or Arthur." Leon's thumb tilted his chin. He smiled and brushed his fingers against Merlin's cheek. "You're upset about this. Let me make it up to you."

The soft sucking of Leon's lips against his mouth did not feel particularly bad, but it didn't feel particularly good. It was kind of like their past kisses. Not terrible by any means, Technically sufficient. But Merlin's dick couldn't have been more uninterested than if he was sorting lights and darks.

Merlin licked his bottom lip and looked towards the ceiling, Leon moving on to kiss under his chin. Maybe he just needed to warm up. He hummed and leaned into Leon, his hand settling on Leon's waist. He rubbed for a second, then stopped. Why was he rubbing? Why did his hands have no idea what to do, and no desire to figure out what to do?

He sighed and shut his eyes. Warm up, warm up, warm up, he chanted in his head, Leon's tongue darting out to sear underneath his jawline.

But no.

Of all things to be thinking about, Merlin couldn't get Arthur's smug, bossy, gorgeous face out of his head. And when Leon held his cheeks to press their lips together, he found himself wishing that Arthur was there. He wanted Arthur there. 

He wanted Arthur unsure and fast in a New York hotel room, he wanted Arthur hot and wanting in a warehouse orgy room, he wanted Arthur firm and perfect in Morgana's guest bedroom. He wanted Arthur counting change with his lips mouthing along, he wanted Arthur with his sleeves rolled up at the sink, he wanted Arthur shoving various foods into his mouth. 

He wanted Arthur laughing that loud belly laugh he sometimes does. He wanted Arthur's arms around him. He wanted Arthur being sarcastic and biting and surprising and secretly supportive. He wanted to feel the way he felt when he was with Arthur. 

He wanted...Arthur.

When he returned home a short while later, he just leaned against the bannister of the steps, dreamy smile on his face. A slender white sculpted vase held a bouquet of orchids on his doorstep.

 

**Saturday April**

Anna Chui won the Rockefeller, complete with camera crew on site to capture the moment. 

Merlin did indeed win a handful of awards and grants, including the opportunity to attend an art festival in London with his private teacher. 

In addition to half of the ceramics honors, Arthur had gotten the highest GPA award, which was the only time during the ceremony that he looked Merlin's way, smirking victoriously. Merlin's face heated so quickly that he wondered if his head would explode. 

Lance won two of the big architecture awards. Gwaine even won an award presented by the senior class for citizenship, which caused him to tear up while he accepted onstage.

The big surprise of the night was the debut of a new senior award called The Killy Award. Merlin and Arthur were the first ever Killy winners. As they took the stage it was announced that a Killy was for gifted artists who not only show promise for art, but who are also kind, brave, and have the heart of a humanitarian. 

Merlin smiled at Arthur before looking straight ahead, both posing for a photo on stage with their awards.

“You've been a busy boy,” he said, low enough so Arthur could hear.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Arthur's voice was uninterested, but his shoulder brushed against Merlin's, the painter grinning wider.

The reception was held at a park across the street form MIA. It had been outfitted with huge white tents, endless strands of white lights, and white tablecloth covered round tables. The stars twinkled above, the weather pleasantly warm for early April. Jackets were abandoned for unbuttoned collared shirts, almost every man rolling the sleeves up to get comfortable.

It seemed like when Arthur would get Merlin alone, someone would come along and whisk Merlin away. Or when Merlin would walk towards Arthur to talk, a teacher would pull Arthur aside for a chat. 

A band started to play, which caused people to dance on the wood laid floor. Finally, the moment for alone time arose.

Arthur practically marched towards Merlin, only to see Leon touch Merlin's arm and whisper something in his ear. Arthur's stomach dropped. He turned away and found a waitress, grabbing a flute of champagne.

Merlin saw Arthur's face crumble from across the party, his lips pressing together and his fingers clenching at his side.

The potter was shocked to see Merlin appear at his side. He quirked an eyebrow, Merlin taking a glass of his own.

“Where's your date?”

Merlin's throat bobbed, the entire glass of fizzy gold champagne gulped down in one.

“Don't have a date,” Merlin rasped, his closed fist pressing against his lips. He swallowed once more. “You?”

Arthur's eyebrows curved upward, his hands in his pockets.

“I'm shocked.”

“Am I supposed to ask you why you're shocked?”

“I think you know why I'm shocked. You're not that dull.”

Merlin laughed and started to walk, Arthur lingering at his side. 

“Not that dull. Wow,” Merlin remarked, smiling softly. “I think that's the best compliment you've ever given me.”

“Hmm, possibly.”

They slipped away from the group, both glancing around for nosy eyes. Merlin heard Gwen's tinkling laughter and smiled. She and the rest of their friends were at the other end of the park, enjoying the dancing. 

Arthur's hand slid to Merlin's lower back, guiding him.

“There's a little garden around back,” he whispered. 

Merlin smirked but stepped faster, Arthur's fingers brushing his shirt. He heard Arthur's deep laughter from behind him and turned, walking backwards.

“Is it your secret garden, Arthur?”

The potter smiled warmly, his tanned chest on display in his unbuttoned black shirt, white lights causing his face to absolutely glow. He reached for Merlin's hand but the painter lifted it in the air, both laughing softly.

“Playing hard to get?”

“Who said you're getting anything?”

“Fuck, you're so quick.” Arthur stepped closer and Merlin gasped, his back bumping something. He looked around and realized that he'd been back against the wall. “But not quick enough.”

Merlin looked back to Arthur, his hands migrating to the blond's hips.

“So, now what? Where do we go from here?”

It was an honest question. They were both too proud to actually admit their feelings aloud, instead dancing around a concrete admission. But they both were so ready to pounce that their dicks were already well past the admission stage and on to the rubbing and touching through their dress pants stage. If only their owners would pick up the pace and start the whole rubbing and touching with the rest of their bodies.

“Hmm, well,” Arthur's eyes dipped from Merlin's bobbing throat to his bright eyes, “I'd like to start kissing you.” He leaned down, lips brushing underneath Merlin's jaw. He got a nose full of skin and cologne, with a hint of tangy sweat. Merlin shuddered into him, his lips opening just to mouth his throbbing pulse. “Wherever you prefer.”

Merlin grinned and tilted his head back. He slid his hands further, fingers just at Arthur's pants line.

“Would you, now?”

“I made a sculpture of you getting head. I think you know I want to kiss you.”

“And why is that, Arthur?” Merlin murmured, tilting his chin forward. He hummed as Arthur's lips brushed against his chin, catlike blue eyes trained on his open mouth. He slowly licked his bottom lip, Arthur's lower body flush with his own. He felt the potter twitch in his pants. “Is it because I'm a talented artist?”

Arthur chuckled low in his throat.

“You flatter yourself,” he said, just as low and quiet. 

His hands settled on Merlin's hips, thumbs burning through the expensive material of his pants. Their eyes locked, Arthur's lips curved in amusement.

“Maybe I'm just horny.”

“I don't doubt that.” Merlin gripped Arthur's ass pushed their groins flush, both hissing. “You think I don't feel that sad excuse for a dick poking against me?”

“God, I love your sass,” Arthur smirked. 

The tips of their noses touched, Merlin's hand flattening on the front of Arthur's pants. His fingers tiptoed over his fly, dragging lightly up his inner thigh before settling on the front once again. Arthur's voice went reedy, his nostrils full of Merlin's cologne and skin and champagne breath. 

“You make me laugh more than anyone.”

“I laugh at you more than anyone,” Merlin countered. 

That pulled another chuckle from Arthur, though his voice choked off, Merlin's hand rubbing insistently between his legs. His palm molded to the throbbing length that stretched towards his thigh, their eyes locked. Merlin willed his hand not to shake while fondling his sworn enemy, and Arthur forced his eyes to remain open so as to study Merlin's every expression.

Arthur's throat bobbed and his brows twitched together, Merlin's eyes downright drowsy and dark. He gripped Merlin's ass, Merlin's sweet breath puffing against his lips in surprise. His hips began to rotate, Merlin unable to break eye contact. Eyes still locked, Merlin bit the soft skin next to Arthur's lips.

“You're teasing me,” Arthur whispered. Merlin smiled against his face, and Arthur couldn't help but smile with him. “I fucking love it.”

“Yeah?” Merlin gripped him tighter. Arthur's quiet moan made Merlin's voice quiver, “You like to be teased?”

Arthur turned his head suddenly then Merlin was falling, falling fast into a dream he'd had night after night and denied day after day, but on this night it was real and he was awake and he was falling. He breathed into Arthur's mouth, their opening together with matching moans.

“I believe these are the most words you've ever said to me at once,” Merlin gasped against Arthur's lips, tilting his head as Arthr kissed him three times in rapid succession. His fingers absently played with the silky strands on the back of Arthur's head, his hand massaging his scalp. “The most attention you've paid to me.”

“Yeah, well--” Arthur held his face still to savor another long press of their lips. Merlin was sweet and sexy and perfect. He shifted his arms to wrap around Merlin and whispered, “I have my reasons.” His eyes flickered up to meet Merlin's gaze and he opened his mouth, teeth grazing Merlin's bottom lip. “But I plan on giving you all of my attention from now on. It only took four years for you to realize what an idiot you are.”

“Me!?” Merlin spun them, pinning Arthur against the lattice wall with his hips. Arthur laughed, their mouths meeting in a scorching, hissed suck of a kiss. “Fuck you! You could have said something too! This is so not my fault.”

Arthur slid sideways with his arm around Merlin's waist.

“Let's get out of here.”

. . .

They bickered about which apartment to go to, and almost decided to just fuck in the cab, but in the end agreed that Arthur's place was the better location.

“It's a shorter walk to Donna's to get coffee tomorrow,” Arthur gasped in the cab, Merlin sucking his collarbone and scratching his nipples through his shirt. 

They made it into Arthur's apartment, their steps hurried and hands wandering the entire trip. Arthur led Merlin into the bedroom while the painter pulled his shirt out of his pants. 

“Your skin is so fucking sexy,” Merlin whispered, his hands sliding up Arthur's lower back. He pressed his face to the center of Arthur's chest, Arthur able to hear him breathing deeply. “Can I—Can I see more?” 

“You don't have to ask me for anything,” Arthur sat Merlin down on the bed, “you can just have it all.”

“Oh really?” Merlin laughed with a n arched eyebrow. “You might be sorry you offered that.”

Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders and pulled him to his body, their shoes bumping together. Arthur smiled into a kiss and pushed Merlin's open shirt off his torso. 

“I doubt that.”

His eyes lit up, his fingers reverently stroking the soft hair in the center of Merlin's chest.

“Sorry, uh,” Merlin pulled his arms into his sides, “do you not like body hair?” 

“God, no, you have the most perfect chest,” Arthur said simply. He leaned down, kissing the center. He tilted his head sideways to smile at Merlin. “I can hear your heart going nuts in there. I guess you're into this?”

Merlin blushed but rolled Arthur onto his back.

“Speaking of chests.”

Merlin basically ripped Arthur's shirt from his body, both laughing.

That spurred a rapid tornado of shoe and clothing removal. Down to just boxer briefs, they humped together with shaky, uneven thrusts, hot heat building between them with their mouths massaging in an endless kiss. The fabric on the front of their boxers was damp and sticky, their bellies sliding with each sweaty writhe.

Arthur ran his fingers along the top of Merlin's waistband.

“Are you...” He cupped him through the material and Merlin let out a high sigh, his neck exposed while he writhed. “I know you don't do ass stuff right away.”

Merlin laughed deliriously and shook his head.

“We're past the point of strangers.” He whimpered and clenched his legs around Arthur's waist. “Oh, fuck, the—When you do those circles on my balls—“ Arthur smiled and did another smooth circle with his thumb. “Oh, fucking fuck!” He laughed at the ticklish sensation caused by Arthur breathing below his navel, his eyes studying the top of Arthur's golden hair. “Get me naked. Please.”

“Bossy,” Arthur said, chuckling. 

He held Merlin's hips to the bed, bringing his mouth to the front of his boxers. He tongued the damp bulge of his head. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he whispered. He rolled his waistband down, looking to Merlin's face. “I've wondered for so long how you'd taste. And you are so tangy sweet.” Merlin had to look away at his blunt words, groaning and thrusting towards his mouth. The boxers inched over Merlin's hipbones, Merlin's mouth involuntarily opening wider with each inch. “How you'd look.”

Arthur's throat bobbed. Merlin cupped his cheek.

“Are you...” He smiled at the blush blooming over Arthur's face. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Arthur said, burying his face in the front of Merlins pants. He laughed and nuzzled him. “I just haven't seen you...You know.” Merlin did not know, and he also didn't know Arthur Pendragon had a shy bone in his body. “Like, naked.”

Merlin smiled down at him.

“I've seen your ass.”

Arthur brought himself level to Merlin's face.

“And I've seen yours.” He patted Merlin's outer thigh. “Pathetically tiny ass that it is.”

“Shut up!”

They laughed into a kiss, Merlin pushing Arthur's boxer briefs off. Arthur kicked them off and did the same to Merlin's. They ground together, bodies fitting with delicious friction. Merlin mewled into Arthur's mouth, the potter pulling him tight to his body.

“I want you so badly,” Arthur whispered, Merlin hypnotized by the roll of his back muscles.

“So take me.”

“You sure about that?”

Merlin turned over onto his stomach. He rested his face on a pillow and smiled at Arthur, lifting one foot to sway in the air. Arthur grinned and opened his bedside table.

“I hope you're ready for this,” he said, Merlin laughing and swaying both of his long feet in the air, moonlight bathing every inch of his pale skin.

In a matter of minutes, lube dripped between Merlin's thighs, pooling against his groin. Arthur's fingers massaged him so perfectly that he could barely see straight, let alone worry about lube. Even the backs of his knees and tops of his shoulders were sweating, his chest panting against the bed.

“Jesus, fuck me,” he groaned, pushing back on two of Arthur's fingers. 

Arthur laughed, the infuriating sound making Merlin groan even louder. He planted his hand in the small of his back, thrusting his fingers faster.

“Oh my God,” Merlin said, the sound strangled and strained. He gasped and bucked against the bed. “Fuck, oh, shit! Arthur, fucking--”

“Such profanity.”

Merlin swooned into the pillow and moaned louder than he had ever moaned in another's presence. 

“Your fucking fingers.”

Arthur chuckled and kissed his right ass cheek, massaging Merlin inside even slower. Merlin whimpered and ground against the bed.

“Faster again, please,” he begged softly.

“How about I fuck you now?”

Merlin peered over his shoulder, pupils blow wide open and his hair already wrecked with sweat.

“Finally.”

Arthur rolled Merlin onto his back but gasped, the painter sitting up and gripping him by his cock. Arthur watched Merlin's hand jerk him, his pale fingers squeezing harder on each upstroke.

“Merlin,” Arthur choked out, his breath lost when Merlin's mouth closed around him. 

His head lolled as he leaned over Merlin. Merlin stroked the bottom of his stomach, enraptured by the tremble of his muscles. He rubbed his thumb over Merlin's cheekbone, the small smile Merlin gave him sending chills through his whole body.

Arthur pulled away and sat on his feet, rolling a condom over himself. Merlin's hands were everywhere, his lips sucking from nipple to nipple until Arthur's chest was damp with saliva and sweat.

He lined himself up, hitching Merlin's legs around his waist. He pressed inside, Merlin squinting down at their lower bodies while exhaling a low, “Unghhh,” sound. 

Arthur grunted and groaned, his face buried in Merlin's neck. He wanted to lick and kiss and fuck and smell every inch of the man beneath him.

“Fuck, you're thick,” Merlin gasped, his toes curling into Arthur's sides.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Merlin said on an exhale, holding the word out.

Arthur gripped Merlin behind his knees and went from thigh to thigh, sucking wet, trembling kisses while he thrust gently, his eyes stinging with sweat.

“When I fuck you, are you going to be really bendy from yoga?”

Merlin's curious question made Arthur laugh mid thrust, his rhythm thrown off. Merlin giggled and wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders.

“I love it when you laugh,” Merlin said, still giggling. 

His palms slid down his sweaty skin, pulling Arthur's ass in a faster rhythm. 

From there it was only a matter of minutes before Arthur was moaning against Merlin's sweaty cheek, his dick pulsing hot and fast inside of the painter. He pistoned his hips as he came, his hand jerking Merlin almost as fast. Merlin involuntarily kicked Arthur in the ass, so close to coming that his body went tight.

Arthur slumped on top of him for a few breaths, Merlin stroking his hair. The blond shifted and Merlin winced, still on the edge with his ass burning in the best way possible. He went to finish himself off but Arthur just hummed, pinning his wrists to the bed. 

He went down Merlin's body and sucked his head into his mouth, his fingers sliding into the still loose muscles of his opening. Merlin dug his heels into the bed, screaming when his tender prostate was pressed on.

“Arthur!”

He couldn't tell if it was the shock of Arthur wanting to finish him off in every way possible or the pleasure that came from Arthur's mouth, but whatever it was it sent him into a shaking, screaming, panting orgasm.

He was so wrecked that didn't realize he had gripped the headboard, not until he felt Arthur's lips kissing ever so softly along his groin, the kisses no more than flutters. He opened his eyes blearily.

Arthur looked up at him, a bit of come still on his bottom lip. He slowly licked it off, his thumbs massaging Merlin's hip bones. 

“Holy fuck,” Merlin rasped.

“Agreed,” Arthur said, laughing a bit out of breath. He brought himself level to Merlin, kissing a line up his chest. “Can we sleep a little?”

“Yes, fucking, please.”

Arthur settled on top of him, his face in the crook of Merlin's neck. He giggled, “Such profanity,” and quirked Merlin's nipple, both laughing as they dozed off.

. . .

“Aren't you relieved the sex was good?”

Arthur smiled as he stroked the hair under Merlin's navel.

“Yeah, I am.” He kissed Merlin softly, their lips swollen from kissing for hours. “It would have been shitty if four years of foreplay led to a dud.”

Merlin laughed and put his hands over his face.

“I can't believe we had sex. We don't even like each other. But we had sex!” He heard Arthur laughing and peeked through his fingers. “I can't believe you were so good at it.”

“Like I told you, I don't fail at things.”

“Oh, God!” Merlin laughed even harder, rolling on top of Arthur. “You are so silly, I swear.”

. . .

Arthur pressed the back of his head into the pillow, his throat open in a wall shaking scream.

“Merlin! Fucking—Merlin! Merlin!”

He chanted Merlin's name over and over again, the painter pounding himself down on Arthur's cock until they both were delirious.

. . .

Arthur fetched Merlin a glass of water and a wash cloth. Merlin looked around his bedroom and felt rather royal. He could get used to being waited on by a gorgeous guy who had a kick ass king sized bed.

The potter crawled back into bed once they were both cleaned up and hydrated.

“Are you...Do you...Are you okay with staying here?”

Merlin barely heard his questions, his body so comfortable on Arthur's chest. 

“Yeah, why?”

“I just thought...You don't like sleeping over places.”

Merlin kissed Arthur's neck, hand resting on his left pec.

“Don't worry about that. Or anything.” He sighed and rubbed his thumb in slow circles around Arthur's nipple. “You're the exception.” 

 

**Sunday April 7**

Merlin didn't know how to end their time together. Since they woke up, Arthur had just been sleepy smiley and super cuddly and so sweetly attentive that Merlin couldn't bare the thought of leaving him. It was now lunch time and they'd had two different meals in bed together. This wasn't just a one night stand, at least he hoped not, so there was no set protocol for how to proceed.

“I have anxiety sometimes,” Arthur quietly admitted before popping a grape in his mouth. Merlin sipped his coffee but kept his eyes on Arthur's face. He nodded for him to continue. “That's it. That's why I was sometimes not so nice to you.”

“You just seemed bored all the time.”

“That's what I used to do whenever I was nervous. To calm myself down.”

“I see.”

“Well, bored expression and this.” He lifted his hand to show Merlin, his thumb making small circles over his palm. “Just to relax myself. I've been fine for a while, I just sometimes get stressed.”

“We all do,” Merlin said softly, squeezing Arthur's bicep.

He curled against Arthur's torso, snatching a grape from his hands. He ate it before Arthur could do more than faux scowl at him. He flattened his hand on Arthur's cheek, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Arthur swallowed and nodded.

“Let's keep that between us, okay?”

Merlin nodded and held Arthur close, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades.

 

**Saturday April 13**

“So, are we, like, friends now?”

Arthur giggled at Merlin's dazed question, his voice high and soft, which only made Merlin start to giggle. The event of Arthur giggling was on par with napping puppies and prancing kittens in terms of cuteness.

“I dunno,” Arthur said and turned onto his side. 

Merlin studied the white sheets pooled below his belly. He leaned his face on his hand, fingers trailing over Merlin's bare navel. The action made Merlin shiver, Arthur's smile widening as his fingers stroked the soft, dark hair that led below the sheets. Merlin tucked both hands under his face on the pillow. 

Arthur continued, “We've been officially sleeping together for a week, so I suppose this is the right time for this conversation.”

Merlin looked over the light hair dusting Arthur's pecs, his muscled stomach with just enough softness to make it touchable but enough structure to have six biteable abs show through, and his perfect, fucking perfect, arms. Arthur kissed the front of his neck, his (perfect) arm gently pulling him closer. That only gave Merlin a deeper gulp of Arthur's skin, warm and fresh and clean and delicious in every way. He frowned and knitted his brows together, itching the back of his head. 

“You're far too attractive for me.” 

“Merlin, please,” Arthur laughed. He gave Merlin's ribs an easy squeeze. Merlin laughed and pushed his hand away. Arthur squeezed his hip lightly. “Shut up. You're gorgeous.” 

He cupped Merlin's cheeks before he could protest, pressing their lips together. Merlin's frown melted away, his brows relaxing while he hummed into even more soft kisses. Arthur pulled the duvet up to his shoulders and cuddled closer. 

“And you're also,” Arthur's voice lowered to an unsure murmur, “my friend?”

Merlin's eyelashes lulled, Arthur kissing him slower and deeper and, “Mmmm,” he managed to say mid-kiss. He wrapped his arms around Arthur, hands indulging in the soft canvas of his lower back and between his shoulder blades. 

“Are we friends?” Arthur whispered.

Merlin nodded into another kiss.

“Good,” Arthur smiled, holding Merlin's face in his hands. He pressed a firm kiss to his lips, almost as an official declaration. “I'm glad.”

“You very well may be my favorite new friend,” Merlin whispered, Arthur's face breaking out into a blazing grin. “Now, friend, fuck me again.”

 

**Tuesday April 16**

Merlin stood on Arthur's doorstep, biting his bottom lip, cheeks flushed. His eyes darted from the pair of large coffees in his hands to Arthur's face.

“You brought me a coffee,” Arthur stated, pleased as punch and grinning, leaning on the door frame. He tucked one bare foot against his calf. “How thoughtful.” Merlin cleared his throat, feet swaying backwards. He went to step and Arthur's eyes widened, hand reaching out. “You're not running off,” he laughed, pulling Merlin closer by his shirt. He tilted his head, kissing him softly on the mouth. He took a step back into the apartment. “Come in.”

Merlin kissed him again, Arthur's hand wrapping around the warm paper cup. Their fingers touched and both moaned into another kiss. 

“Let's not go through that whole nervous, awkward stage where we're afraid to do kind things for each other,” Arthur murmured against Merlin's lips, pressing him against the now closed door. The statement seemed to unlock the tension residing in Merlin's limbs, his body going pliant against Arthur's firm weight. “Mmm, god,” Merlin cupped his cheek with his free hand, “I love your lips.”

Arthur placed his coffee on the small table near his door, looping his arm around Merlin's lower back. He smiled upon having Merlin's nose pressed against his neck.

“We spent years hating each other,” Merlin breathed over his skin, kissing below his ear. Arthur tilted his head, lips snagging together. “I'm glad you agree that we can be openly nice to each other.”

Arthur lifted Merlin's feet off the ground, even though Merlin was already a touch taller than him. He shook him once, Merlin's arms wrapping around his shoulders. Arthur's hands took their place on Merlin's ass, holding him to his body.

“I want to be more than nice to you,” Arthur replied. 

Merlin laughed loudly at the growl in his voice and wound his legs around Arthur's waist. Arthur hitched him up for the march towards the bedroom.

“Well, I've brought you a coffee,” he kissed Arthur's nose, laying small licks and kisses all over his face, “which is nectar from the gods.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” Merlin said confidently, nodding. “Which I feel is pretty more than nice.”

“Mm, yes,” Arthur said. He laid Merlin down on the bed while smothering him with his body.

 

**Thursday April 18**

“I want to take you to the Helmand for dinner tonight.”

Arthur flushed, his head jutting backwards.

“Did you just ask me on a date? With Afghan food?”

“I believe I did,” Merlin said, grinning. He kissed Arthur's lips softly, the blond leaning forward for more. Merlin pulled back, just out of reach, and continued to smile wide. “Well?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Arthur's eyes blinked rapidly, his lips suddenly clumsy to blurt, “of course.”

Merlin's fingers traced over Arthur's cheekbones, lips laying little kisses on the corners of his mouth. 

“You're flustered,” he stated.

“Well, I'm...” He paused for a kiss, Merlin sucking softly on his bottom lip. The kiss was over far too soon, Arthur again groaning quietly and leaning forward for more. 

“You're a greedy boy,” Merlin murmured, brushing their lips together.

“I'm usually the one who would ask someone out to dinner,” Arthur said, throat bobbing to swallow. “God, you're so good at riling me up I just can't take it.”

Merlin giggled and straddled him, arms looped comfortably around his neck. He did have a certain knack at teasing Arthur, once he knew all the right buttons to push instead of the annoying buttons of the past. Though those were still fun to press once in a while. 

His fingers scratched lightly along the back of his head. He leaned closer and started to suck his Adam's apple, gentle and slow, Arthur's eyes rolling towards the ceiling.

“Fuck you and your incredible memory,” Arthur said, groan laced through his voice.

Merlin smiled against his skin. He kissed his way to Arthur's jawline, tongue darting out here and there and everywhere. His hand slipped between them, teeth bumping into Arthur's pulse point when he grinned. Arthur's cock felt heavy and hard and gorgeously familiar in his hand, heat bursting through the fabric of his tight jeans.

They went on their dinner date, and when they got back to Merlin's place they watched an episode of Game of Thrones until they fell asleep on the sofa. Together.

 

**Friday April 19**

“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen said, holding him tight to her chest. 

He hummed soothingly, stroking the back of her hair. It had been blown straight and done into a striking updo; one of Arthur's surprise spa gifts yet again. 

“You were amazing. We are going to have a blast tonight and I'm so proud of you,” he whispered.

She clenched her teary eyes shut. 

“I can't believe it's over.” Her body wilted against him at the thought. “I can't believe I did it.”

“I never had any doubt.”

She pulled away and laughed, dabbing her fingers under her eyes.

“I'm going to ruin all of Morgana's work,” she said, laughing again. 

He smiled and smoothed a fly away near her temple. Gwen's curls couldn't be tamed, even when under professional supervision.

“Go see your guests,” Merlin said, tilting his head towards the waiting mob of students and family. “I think Lance is going to pee his pants if you don't go to him.”

“He's such a flute fan boy.”

Gwen's family swallowed her up, Merlin busying himself by helping her cousins prep the reception food.

“What a goody good,” a deep voice whispered near his ear.

He caught eyes with Arthur as the potter moved towards Gwen, a bouquet of wild flowers in his hands. Arthur mouthed, “Suck up,” to Merlin, then spun on his heel. 

As a proud Gwen flute fan boy, Arthur waited his turn in line and congratulated the relieved recitalist. They were chatting about the role of the flute in modern repertoire when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Gwen fell into Lance's arms while laughing at something he whispered in her ear. Arthur slid his thumb to unlock the screen. He blinked; Merlin had texted him.

**:: bathroom by the creepy statue. urgent. ps: i can see your dick outline through your dress pants. ::**

Arthur giggled, louder than anticipated. Gwen and Lance laughed.

“What's so funny?” Lance asked.

“Oh, uh, nothing,” he said, stepping backwards, his hand over his groin. He smiled at them. “Just need the bathroom.”

“Hurry back! We've got mini cupcakes and a cheese platter with your name on it!”

Arthur opened the door to the nearest bathroom, which was located near a statue of some Greek god holding a harp. Speaking of being able to see a dick outline.

“Hi,” Merlin said brightly, leaning against the sinks.

“You're lucky I read your mind and went to this bathroom.”

“Bilt does have an abundance of creepy artwork.”

Arthur chuckled and stepped up to him, holding his hips. Merlin cupped his cheeks and kissed him, soft and gentle, their lips warmly massaging together. Arthur sighed and smiled, but grew serious when Merlin leaned in for another kiss.

“Are you okay?” He squinted at the painter. “You said it was urgent.”

“I urgently needed to kiss you,” Merlin said.

“That...” Arthur gaped at him, Merlin just giggling and hiding his face in his neck. “You did?”

Merlin groaned, “I did,” as if it pained him. He pulled his face out of Arthur's neck. Arthur was smiling and stroking his hair, looking all too pleased. “We'll be with everyone all night. Just wanted to get a fix.”

“Why don't you come stay at my place tonight?”

“You want me to?” Merlin asked, a bit shy.

“Of course. I...I sleep like a log with you,” Arthur admitted quietly.

“That wouldn't be because we fuck each other's brains out beforehand, right?”

“Hm, I dunno.” Arthur shrugged. “Maybe.” He kissed Merlin, holding his hand and pulling him towards the door. “We'll just have to find out tonight, yeah?”

 

**Saturday April 20**

"Tired," Merlin murmured, almost too quiet to hear.

Arthur smiled against the back of his neck and squeezed him one. He pressed a kiss to Merlin's bare shoulder. When he pulled away his lips felt sweet and warm. Tingly. He kissed closer to his neck.

"Sleep, khaleesi," he whispered.

Merlin's little giggle was equally quiet but sent a shiver through his body, a shiver Arthur felt while holding him. He kissed the arch of Merlin's neck, sucking gently.

“You just called me your queen,” Merlin murmured, giggling again. 

Arthur reached under Merlin's body and gave him a good morning squeeze. An interested hum vibrated against the pillow and Arthur chuckled. He bit Merlin's earlobe and pulled for a second. 

"I'll make breakfast, lazy lump."

"Hmm, yeah,” Merlin let out a little whimper, “yumyum...Wash your hands..."

Arthur stretched his arms over his head as he walked into the kitchen. His boxers hung low on his hips, his back cracking in all the right places. Merlin had ridden him so spectacularly the night before that he deserved a hearty breakfast.

Ten minutes later, Arthur slid his spatula under the final pancake of the batch. He admired the symmetry of the cakes, each golden brown with creamy white edges.

"Not so bad if I say so myself," he said softly, spinning the spatula in his hand cowboy style. 

He put three pancakes on each plate. He gave Merlin's plate all of the little crunchy mini pancakes that resulted from splatters. 

“You are losing it, Pendragon,” he said to himself with a wide smile.

He put a small heart shaped pancake on top of each plate's stack. He placed a paper towel over the stack of extras and turned the pilot off of the other burner. He spooned generous helpings of fluffy scrambled eggs onto their plates. A sprinkle of leftover grated cheddar on top completed their meal. The pans were left in the sink to soak. He could deal with them later.

“Breakfast time,” he said, balancing both plates in his hands. He padded into the bedroom and placed one on his bedside table. He moved to Merlin's side of the bed and put his plate on his table. In a singsong voice he teased, “I'm going to eat all your pancakes if you don't wake up.”

Merlin opened his eyes, blinking at the plate.

“That looks amazing,” he rasped, voice still rough from sleep. He smiled brightly at Arthur with his eyes squinted practically closed. “Thank you so much.”

Arthur sat on the bed and stroked Merlin's hair.

“God, you look beautiful in the morning.” He pecked Merlin's smiling lips. “Now get up.” He ruffled his hair and sat back. “Your eggs are going to get cold.”

Merlin laughed and pushed the comforter off his chest. His grateful eyes took in Arthur's appearance.

“Hello there,” he said, both laughing. He cupped Arthur through his boxers and sighed, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “It's unfair how good you look in your underwear.”

Arthur grinned and kissed Merlin again.

“Coffee is in the kitchen. Want me to get you a cup?” He stroked the side of his neck. “We can eat in here, if you want, but I draw the line at eating scrambled eggs off each other.” His brow wrinkled. “Though pancake syrup might be a good choice.”

Merlin contemplated having breakfast in bed with Arthur. It was the combination of so many pleasurable things that his head grew fuzzy. Then he ran through the activity in his head again. Breakfast. Breakfast with Arthur. Arthur cooked him a huge, delicious smelling breakfast.

He pulled his hand back. He stiffened in bed, and not in the fun way. 

"So this is it, hm?"

“This is what?”

“This is it,” Merlin said low in his throat, throwing the blanket off. “The end.”

Arthur felt slapped, Merlin just glaring at him from bed. That wasn't the response he expected for cooking breakfast. Merlin looked far too cozy to be angry.

"What are you--" He reached for Merlin's thigh, only to have his hand pushed away. Merlin leaned over the bed and pulled his discarded black tee on. Arthur's eyes sagged. "Are you mad at me?"

Merlin got out of bed, throwing the covers onto Arthur's body. He bent over and pulled his jeans up his right leg, shaking his head.

"Wow, I guess I should be grateful to have made it almost two weeks," he said under his breath. “MIA Achievement Award worthy.” He snorted. “A Pendragon Cubie.”

"What's wrong with you?" Arthur asked, confusion wrinkling his brow. He stood up and held Merlin's plate, taking a step closer to the painter. “Do you not like pancakes? Or eggs? I'm sorry, I didn't know.”

Merlin glared at him while struggling with his fly. His anger softened at the sight in front of him; Arthur wore nothing but his black boxers, a plate clutched between two large hands, his hair sleep ruffled and his face still soft in the morning light.

“It's not the pancakes and eggs,” Merlin said quietly, buttoning his pants. “It's...Breakfast.”

Arthur's confusion only grew deeper.

“And?” He laughed a little, nerves giving his giggle a shaky flutter. “You don't like breakfast?”

“It's...With you...” Merlin's hands flailed in the air. “I get it, okay? You should have said something.”

Arthur replaced the plate on the bedside table. He crossed his arms over his chest, squinting at the painter.

“Merlin, what are you talking about?”

“It's the way you dump people,” Merlin blurted out, his hands clenching into tight fists. They dropped to his sides. “Everyone knows. You cook a big breakfast and then you dump them.”

Arthur's eyebrows went sky high. 

“Oh, really? Everyone knows?”

And then Merlin felt quite silly. He'd managed to insult Arthur in so many ways in one fell swoop. He insulted Arthur's romantic and generous breakfast. He insinuated that people talked about Arthur behind his back, himself included. He brought up Arthur dumping past girlfriends; not the most pleasant memory.

Merlin bit his bottom lip.

“I'm...I'm sorry,” he whispered, moving towards the bedroom door. “I'll just go.”

Arthur's rich, rolling laughter was the last thing he expected to hear, but there it was, the blond hysterical and clutching his stomach. 

“Oh, Merlin,” he laughed, his voice going higher. He wiped his eyes. “You are a fucking trip.”

Merlin crossed his arms over his chest with a baffled, but mildly put off, expression on his face. His bare feet curled into the thick carpet.

“What is so fucking funny?”

Arthur breathed fast to calm down, short bursts of giggles still shaking his body. He shuffled to Merlin and gripped his cheeks. His smiling eyes scanned over Merlin's face, his lips zoning in for a soft kiss.

“Did it ever occur to you that I just like making breakfast food?”

Merlin's lips parted, Arthur kissing his bottom lip even softer. The kisses were tingle-inducing as ever, but Merlin's brain tried to function amidst such madness.

“I know you like cereal.”

Arthur chuckled, “Very good,” in a higher register, as if he was teacher a child to place scales on the cello. “I do love cereal. And most of my breakups happened in the morning for whatever reason. Half the time I'd try to end it but they wanted one more night, so I'd give it to them and then the breakup just happened the next morning. You can talk to my exes about that, if you'd like. Also, people,” Arthur giggled again, “tend to eat breakfast in the morning, whether they're dumping someone or not.”

Merlin was doing his best not to smile, but failing miserably. 

“You're teasing me.”

“I'm explaining,” Arthur countered. “And besides,” his thumbs stroked Merlins fleshy earlobes, “I'm the one who likes to be teased.”

Merlin sighed, his eyes meeting Arthur's for the first time since his outburst.

“I feel like an asshole.”

Arthur gently tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You're not an asshole.” His right hand flattened behind Merlin's neck, thumb massaging the bottom of his hairline. “You're the least asshole person I know. And if anything, I'm flattered.”

Merlin's eyebrows twitched, confusion muddling his expression.

“Flattered?”

A selfish grin settled on Arthur's face.

“You clearly have been tracking my every move for years--”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Merlin said over his words, Arthur only smiling wider. 

“Listening in on my ex-girlfriends,” Merlin's scoff brushed over Arthur's nose, “monitoring my relationships,” the potter wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist, “admiring me from afar--”

Merlin pulled away and laughed, “You are ridiculous!” with flaming red cheeks. Arthur giggled and bit on his neck, causing Merlin to laugh and squeal, “And full of yourself! God, your head is like a planet.”

Arthur trapped him against the wall, his forearms boxing Merlin's head.

“And you clearly want me all to yourself.”

Merlin's nose twitched and his head tilted, his lips trembling not to smile.

“Did I say that?”

“You didn't have to,” Arthur happily gloated. He went in for a kiss but pulled back when Merlin tried to meet him. He did it again, Merlin grunting and trying to rub against him. His teeth blazed in a thrilled smile. “You like me.”

“I like your dick and the way you suck mine.”

“Oooh,” Arthur taunted, giggling, their hips pressing together. “Dirty mouth.”

Arthur gently nudged his fingers into Merlin's side.

“Ah!” Merlin half gasped and half giggled. He arched away from Arthur's fingers, which were taking a leisurely stroll higher on his side. Merlin squirmed against him and giggled a bit louder. “What are you--” He burst out laughing, attempting to say, “Not the armpit!” while Arthur's fingers dug in under his arm. “Arthurrrr!”

“You're hard,” Arthur amusedly noted, stopping his attack. “I think you like being--”

“I like you,” Merlin blurted out, panting, his eyes wide and frazzled. “I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. And I couldn't stand you for so long that my brain can't make sense of it all. You're kind, and you're thoughtful. You're sweet. You--” He jerked his hand towards the bed. “You make me breakfast and surprise me every single day in the best way imaginable.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said softly.

Merlin allowed Arthur to guide him back to the bed. His jeans were pushed down in their scramble, the legs getting caught under his feet while they walked.

. . . 

“Did you make me heart shaped pancakes?”

Arthur's chest heaved up and down three times before he panted, “Yes.”

“And you like me?”

Arthur tilted his head on the pillow, his muscled arms still splayed above his head on the pillow. 

“Of course I do.”

Merlin rolled over onto his stomach, his cheek slapping against Arthur's sweat slick chest. He looked up upon feeling Arthur's fingers brush the back of his neck.

“I like you more than anyone I've ever been with,” he admitted softly. “I feel good with you. I'm myself with you. I respect you not only as a person, but as an artist.” He smiled crookedly. “A talented artist.” 

“I think I'm hard again.”

Arthur's chest bounced while he laughed loudly.

. . .

**Tuesday April 23**

“I've got to work on glazes all night.”

“Mmm, I love listening to you talk about glazes. Makes me think of donuts.”

Arthur laughed and ruffled Merlin's hair while the brunet kissed circles over his bare chest. Merlin pulled his head up with a reluctant sigh.

“In truth,” he softly said, “it makes me so hot when you talk about doing all the things you do.”

“Oh really?” Arthur replied, intrigued. He ran his palm down the middle of Merlin's back, hand dipping below the slouching comforter. He lightly stroked his fingers over the small of his back. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Merlin giggled. He leaned down again, lips pressing to the base of Arthur's throat. He purred into another kiss, arching his back. “All your talk of oxides and peptides and whatever else you do to make all your stuff. It's hot.”

Merlin was shocked when later that night, Arthur showed up sweaty and smiling at his studio door, looking outrageously attractive in a baggy blue tank, tight black jeans, and flip flops. The potter leaned his shoulder on the open doorway.

“Hi,” Arthur said, lifting one hand to push his damp hair off his forehead. 

The effect was Merlin getting a perfect view of his bicep and the tender skin under his arm, while also seeing just how classic Arthur's bone structure looked with his hair off his face.

“Um, hi,” Merlin laughed. He stepped back into the studio. “What are you doing here?”

Arthur strolled into the room, pulling Merlin along by the middle of his shirt.

. . .

**Monday May 6**

“And your title?”

“It's called, 'In the making,'” Merlin replied to Gaius.

He kept his gaze neutral but looked across the group of classmates towards Arthur, who looked rather bored. At the announcement of his title, he was rewarded with the smallest curl of Arthur's lips, the ends twitching upwards. His body flushed red hot for what felt like an hour. The heat under his skin bubbled even hotter when Arthur's eyes slid towards him before blinking back to the canvas.

“Yes, well,” Gaius said, amusement lightening his tone. He cleared his throat gently, studying the handprint shaped blobs of paint mixed in with clay along the top of the canvas. “You certainly must have been making something while making this.”

There was a round of quiet chuckles from the students and nearby teachers alike, Merlin's cheeks flushing a rosy pink.

. . .

**Tuesday May 7**

Merlin hummed low and deep. He inhaled slowly, his nose pressed against the tender skin at the curve of Arthur's neck. Heat flooded his nostrils, his entire body buzzing more and more with each breath.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Strong fingers weaved a gentle path through Merlin's wild bedhead. Arthur's voice, once so bored and devoid of emotion, rang with amusement. With uncontrollable affection. Merlin lowered his nose, breathing to the center of Arthur's chest.

“I'm smelling you,” Merlin giggled, nudging his nose against Arthur's left nipple. “I can't stop myself. I feel like I'm getting high.”

Arthur raised his arms and rested his hands behind his head. Merlin pressed his chin into Arthur's upper ribs, both sharing sleepy, but wide, smiles.

“I believe I recall someone bitching last year about being able to smell my sweaty armpits?”

Merlin burst out laughing and suddenly understood Arthur's shift in position. A low rumbling of laughter shook Arthur's torso underneath his chin. Merlin's fingers circled his navel. 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up,” Merlin giggled. He rubbed his nose under Arthur's arm. The blond inhaled sharply, a glance from Merlin confirming just how surprised he was at the action. Or maybe at what the action stirred inside of him. “Just know that even that day, your sick day, I barely was able to walk back to my place fast enough before I had to jerk off. I just didn't realize why.”

Arthur spread his legs to wrap around Merlin's body. He flipped them in bed, now straddling Merlin's hips.

 

**Wednesday May 8**

“Merlin! My Magic Merlin!”

Merlin laughed into Gwaine's shoulder, both friends embracing tightly.

“I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!” Gwaine said, swaying their bodies side to side. He smacked his lips against Merlin's cheek. “Where have you been?”

“We just saw each other at Chelsea's party yesterday.”

“But still. I need my alone time.”

“You're not still enraptured by Percy's man meat?”

Gwaine giggled easily, resting his ankle on his knee.

“Of course I am.” The tanned skin around his sunglasses crinkled as he smiled, genuine and warm. “But I'm still curious as to where you've been!”

“Oh, you know,” Merlin said as he sat down at their outdoor table. He smiled and adjusted his wayfarers. “Just been busy.”

“Busy?” Gwaine laughed and kicked his flip flops off. “Psh. We're done! Even I'm done, and I was a billion years behind everyone. What could you possibly be doing?”

“Just...Work, painting, you know.” Merlin picked up a menu and sat back in his chair. “I wonder if they have a special quiche today.”

Merlin scratched the back of his head, the sleeve of white his tee riding up on his bicep. Gwaine noticed a bruise on his inner arm. He opened his mouth to inquire but then closed it. He squinted through his aviators, watching Merlin twirl his fingers in the back of his hair. The back of his matted hair.

“You're...Getting...Laid,” Gwaine said slowly, laughing at Merlin's shocked gasp. Gwaine pointed his finger across the table. “You are!”

“No, I'm not,” Merlin said, laughing. “What makes you say that?”

“You've got a hickey on your arm and just-been-fucked hair.”

Merlin's mouth fell open, his eyes darting to his arm. He dropped his arm and held it to his side. He shook his head. Before he could deny it, Gwaine leaned across the table, his face perched on his palms.

“Tell me about him. Do I know him? What's his--” Gwaine gasped. “Oh, is it Leon Lane?”

“Nooo, no, no,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “He's great, but we're better as friends.” 

“So, then, who is it?”

Merlin just giggled and perused the menu.

“There's no one, Gwaine.”

 

**Thursday May 9**

The door buzzer startled Merlin as he dried his hair. He dropped the towel into the hamper and padded barefoot to the living room in just his jeans. He held his thumb on the button, ruffling his damp hair with his free hand.

“Yeah?”

“It's me.”

Merlin's stomach fluttered, a smile breaking out on his face. He buzzed Arthur in without another word. He ran to his bathroom and shoved his toothbrush into his mouth, mentally counting the steps up to his floor. He spit in the sink just as Arthur knocked on the door.

“Just a second,” he called. 

He snatched his blue Weezer tee from a basket of clean clothes and pulled it over his head, grabbing his deodorant and running into the living room. He swiped under his right arm and stumbled while hitting his left underarm. 

“I can hear you bumbling around,” Arthur's voice drawled through the door.

Merlin laughed and tossed his deodorant on the sofa. He ran his hands down the front of his tee. 

“Whoops,” he giggled, moving the material to cover his navel.

He opened the door and couldn't control his goofy smile, Arthur leaning his right shoulder on the doorframe. The blond was smiling just as wide.

“Hi,” Merlin said, giggling again. He pushed his wet hair off his forehead. “This is a nice surprise. Just got out of the shower.”

Arthur pulled his left arm from behind his back. Merlin's lips popped open.

“For you,” Arthur said, biting his bottom lip. 

He held the lush bouquet of white lilies out in front of him. He chuckled at Merlin's frozen stance and placed the stems in his hand, their fingers laced together around the bouquet. 

“You bought me--” Merlin's head shook involuntarily, his mouth wide open. “You--”

“I was passing by a flower cart and saw these.” Arthur touched one of the petals. “And it made me think of your skin.” He brought his eyes to Merlin's face, hunger passing between them. “Your beautiful, perfect skin.”

Merlin stepped backwards into his apartment, rasping, “Jesus, Arthur, I--”

Arthur shut the door behind him, leaning forward. He pressed their lips together in a hot, wet, deep kiss. Merlin's body sagged into him, his hand clutching the bouquet. Arthur kissed his earlobe, smiling against his skin.

“Then I remembered you babbling about your skin. You tend to babble, you know?” Merlin giggled into another kiss, nodding at Arthur's tease. “And I realized that I don't yet know your most ticklish spot.” Arthur watched flush dot Merlin's cheeks, his eyes widening. A brief flash of nerves, of embarrassment, darkened Merlin's eyes. “I can tell it drives you a bit wild when I accidentally touch a sensitive bit of you. That you like it.” The blond kissed his neck deeply. “And I think that tonight will be the night we do a little research, hm? Put a couple of your ridiculous scarves to good use?”

 

**Friday May 10**

Arthur pressed kisses to each of Merlin's nipples. 

“I've got to go for a bit, khaleesi.”

The painter hummed obliviously in pleasure, stretching his arms over his head and smiling in his sleep. Arthur took in the subtle nuances this early morning peep show provided, like his surprisingly broad shoulders, or the contrast between the buttery, hairless skin stretched over his ribs and the soft, dark hair that was a pleasant surprise on his chest and under his arms. Goosebumps prickled the skin around his dark nipples. He leaned down, kissing the dip of his throat.

“Want to get lunch at Thairish later?” 

Something, whether it was the mention of thai food or the tender kisses to his neck, pulled Merlin further from sleep. He snorted a bit, Arthur smirking down at him. He straddled Merlin's hips in an attempt to get out of bed, the blankets shifting lower.

Merlin's voice rumbled, “Where are you...” He stared up at Arthur with closed eyes, if that was even possible, and looked highly confused (and sleep rumpled). He lowered his arms to wrap them around Arthur's ass. He palmed both cheeks and pursed his lips, half dozing off again. Arthur giggled as softly as he could and Merlin woke to mumble, “Where are you going?”

“Yoga.”

Merlin shook his head.

“Crazy. No.”

He blindly ran his palms up Arthur's front. The light, warm touches made the idea of getting out of bed all the more difficult. 

“Sun and moon and stars,” Merlin murmured, gently rolling his nipples between his fingers.

Arthur laughed properly.

“Alright, five more minutes,” he relented, flattening on top. Merlin sighed high and soft, smiling against Arthur's shoulder.

Five turned to a cuddly fifteen, and Arthur's phone buzzed on the bedside table. He rolled onto his side and turned it off. 

“I've got to go,” he whispered, pulling himself out of Merlin's arms.

“No,” Merlin groaned quietly. He rolled onto Arthur, burrowing his face into his neck. Arthur chuckled deeply, his arm easing around Merlin's upper back. He stroked between his shoulder blades, kissing his cheek softly. “Please stay. I...” Merlin hugged him tight, Arthur's eyes lulling closed again. “I don't want to give you up just yet. Take the later class, please?” 

“I think someone's a little out of it from last night,” Arthur's voice teased, his fingers fluttering under Merlin's right arm.

“Arthur,” he giggled, half asleep. He shivered. “I...I am, actually. Last night was incredible.”

When Arthur wasn't tickling him silly, he was fucking him silly, all while kissing and touching and sucking him into a frenzy. All night long. On the couch. On the floor. In bed. 

Merlin rubbed their feet together. Certain spots on his body were still tingling in memory of the previous night, his cock hard against Arthur's hip. He heard Arthur's voice whisper something about a date later. More specifically, a date with the arches of his feet. Merlin's stomach tightened and grew warm from the inside, his body trembling uncontrollably and hands skittering over Arthur's bare chest. 

“Uh oh,” Arthur laughed softly, recognizing one of the many adorable (and hot) Merlin quirks he'd been privy to these past few weeks. “We've got an Atomic Merlin situation on our hands.”

“Oh, god, yeah, you can't leave me now,” Merlin moaned, shaking, mouthing Arthur's neck. He held Arthur's cheeks, pressing their lips together hotly. “Please...” His full lips were pillowy against Arthur's smiling mouth. “You're the only person who...Who...”

Arthur tipped Merlin's chin up with one finger.

“Who what?”

Merlin smiled down at the bed. His eyelashes seemed endless and dark as night against his pale skin. 

“Who didn't...But did...”

He raised his eyebrows. Arthur simply smirked, quirking his head.

“I'm not following, Merlin. Like I said,” he stroked around Merlin's navel, “you're a bit out of it still.” He squinted, feigning confusion. “Or perhaps that's just the real you.”

“You're the only person who makes it so...so...” Merlin burst out laughing, his giggles bubbling into Arthur's mouth. “Incredibly fun. And comfortable. And hot. All at once. Without making me feel bad or weird.”

Arthur's face relaxed, his eyes curved along with his lips.

“I'm glad it's enjoyable for you.” He softly pecked the painter's lips, stroking his cheekbone. “You have no reason to ever feel bad about something that makes you feel good. Speaking of which,” he nipped at Merlin's bottom lip, “we've got to do something about your Atomic Merlin situation, hmm?”

Merlin grinned for just a split second before he was flipped onto his stomach. Strong fingers dug into his bare sides, barks of gasped laugher bouncing between them.

“Arthur!!”

Merlin squirmed and rolled Arthur onto his back, both laughing like banshees in a mess of blankets.

“Maybe I want to tie you up,” Merlin teased, attempting to pin Arthur to the bed. “I bet that'll get rid of my atomic situation.” 

Arthur laughed, Merlin's toes digging against his bare arches. His right wrist was attached to the bed by a stretched red scarf they used the night before. 

“Ah ha!” Merlin said, grinning victoriously. He got off the bed and took off, Arthur laughing at his bouncing ass as he ran away. “Be right back!”

Merlin ran into the kitchen. He'd bought a can of whipped cream at Steps the night before but they never got to use it. Now would be the time.

“Well, hello there.”

Merlin gasped and turned away from the open fridge, holding the whipped cream out at the strange voice. He sucked a breath in and laughed breathily.

“Jesus Christ, Mordred,” he laughed, cooling his forehead with the can. “Where did you come from?”

Mordred lifted his right hand to reveal a bundle of cords.

“I left my phone charger here.”

“But...You haven't been here for months?”

Mordred shrugged, “I made it work.”

“I've escaped, you naughty little thing,” Arthur's teasing voice said as an announcement. Mordred smiled at Merlin, his head tilted curiously. “Someone needs a bondage lesson.”

He bounded into the room, wearing nothing but Merlin's red scarf tied in a triangle around his neck. Merlin's knees knocked at the sight of his beaming smile, then remembered they weren't alone.

“Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur stopped running near the sofa, his body frozen mid-stride.

“Oh. Hey, Mordred,” he said, far too relaxed for the situation. “Uh,” his eyes darted to Merlin, who was holding the can of whipped cream in front of his dick. “Hi?”

“Nice to see you,” Modred said, barely able to restrain his laughter. He gave Arthur a pointed look downward, then back to his face. “All of you.”

Arthur snatched the scarf around his neck and held it over himself.

“Gross, I wear that around my neck,” Merlin groaned from the kitchen.

Arthur blinked once at him.

“You just had this cock in your mouth less than eight hours ago. I think you can deal.”

Mordred's laughter finally escaped, the painter and potter peering at him.

“Finally. I was wondering when you two would come to your senses.”

 

**Saturday May 11**

“Arthur,” Merlin moaned, his eyes half closed. He ground himself into the bed, Arthur's fingers massaging him inside with slow, devastating accuracy.

“You fucking love this.”

“Mmhm...Love it.”

Arthur lapped along the undersides of Merlin's ass, tongue curving over the sweat salty cheeks. He bit down on the back of his thigh, Merlin shivering and groaning higher in his throat. His leg twitched on the bed, Arthur repeating the sucking kiss on his inner thigh.

“What do you want? Fingers? Tongue? Or dick?”

“I want—“ Merlin's face flushed hot, his entire body on edge. He clenched his eyes shut, Arthur sucking on his lower back and pumping his fingers faster. “Ungh, fuck, Arthur--”

“What do you want?”

Air rushed through Merlin's voice, the painter quickly growing out of breath.

“I want you to chase me.”

Arthur kept kissing his lower back but hummed.

“What?”

Merlin arched his lower back and pushed Arthur's hand away, his slick fingers slipping free. His catlike stretch elongated his body, his eyes dancing over his shoulder at Arthur.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Merlin said, giggling and rolling onto his back. He spread his legs, Arthur's eyes igniting. Merlin pushed his shoulder with his toes, giggling, “Chase me.”

Arthur's jaw dropped, his hair stuck up in the front. He slid on top of Merlin, only to have the painter slip out from under him.

“What?” he laughed and reached for his ass. “Get back here. We were just getting going.”

He reached for Merlin, but the brunet just grinned at him and dipped into the bathroom. He emerged with two fluffy white towels. One landed on Arthur's head. He could hear Merlin running barefoot to the front door. Arthur wrapped the towel around his waist and ran after him.

“Merlin,” he said, huffing laughter. “We're naked!”

“You'd better catch me,” Merlin's voice gigged from the hallway. 

Arthur grabbed his keys as he ran out the door, holding his towel in front of himself. He made it into the hallway in time to see Merlin waggle his fingers in a cheeky wave, the elevator doors shutting right as he made it there. Arthur grinned.

“That little shit. Making me run.”

He checked the stairwell for any unsuspecting tenants before taking off up the steps. He could barely breathe when he burst through the rooftop exit, but he couldn't stop smiling (even with his intense stomach cramp). He looked left and right, warm early summer humidity enveloping his body. Merlin's bubbly laughter whipped against his face. He perked up.

“I see that ass,” Arthur said, taking off in a sprint. 

He threw his towel and keys on a lounge chair and reached for Merlin. His fingertips brushed over his shoulder.

“Can't catch me!” Merlin said, whooping and running naked around the pool lit pool. His dick bounced proudly above the city of Baltimore.

He jumped into the deep end. A burst of bubbles and whiteness exploded in front of him, Arthur's body following him under the water. They both laughed underwater, their hands reaching for each other.

“And now,” Merlin panted happily with drops of water sparkling on his eyelashes, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck, you're such a—A challenging, perfect person,” Arthur said between kisses. “I can't get enough of you.”

Merlin led Arthur's hand to his straining cock. 

“There's a lot of me to go around.”

Arthur laughed and kissed him, starting to thrust against his entrance. He slid his thumb in, Merlin still slick and hot. Merlin's legs floated to wrap around his waist, their bodies joining underwater. Merlin moaned and dug his fingernails into Arthur's ass, Arthur biting his bottom lip not to make noise. Merlin sucked a filthy kiss, swirling his tongue into Arthur's mouth.

“People might hear us,” Merlin whispered, clenching tight around Arthur.

That pulled a throaty moan from the blond, his hair matted to his head. A nearby apartment building must have been having a party, because music started to bounce around the concrete pool area. They continued to kiss and hump, but Arthur's ear turned in the direction of the music.

“Is that Billy Idol?”

Merlin panted and shrugged, sucking Arthur's right nipple into his mouth and ignoring the slight acidity of pool chlorine on his skin.

“I love Billy Idol,” Arthur said, breathing hard. He hummed to the song, Merlin snorting laughter against his chest.

“Are you really going to sing Mony Mony while we have pool sex?”

“I just might,” Arthur said, his head starting to bob along to the beat. Merlin flicked water at him, laughing and squirming with a cock in his ass. “The words apply, Merlin.” Arthur waited a beat for the music to line up, then widened his eyes and sang, “Come on!” while thrusting faster. “Come on!”

Merlin laughed even harder, and blurted something out that might have been, “If I laugh and fart it'll make bubbles,” which only sent Arthur into uncontrollable belly laughs, both scrabbling to keep fucking.

“Oh my God, don't say the word fart while we're fucking. It's making me laugh too much,” Arthur said, Merlin giggling into a kiss. “It's always going to be a funny word!”

Their jerky motions felt surprisingly good, both continuing to giggle while Arthur crooned Billy Idol in Merlin's ear. They reached their frantic peak, the water sloshing around them and Arthur shouting jumbled lyrics while they continued to laugh. Merlin stopped laughing abruptly and moaned, shuddering against him, both kissing with clashes of teeth and writhing.

They came down, chests heaving together, water and sweat dripping down their faces.

“Merlin, Merlin,” Arthur sang softly to the melody, smiling and pecking Merlin's top lip. He repeated, “Merlin, Merlin,” and kissed his bottom lip, opening his mouth for a tender suck.

The song ended and, during the second of silence between tracks, Merlin whispered, “I love you, Arthur,” against his wet cheek.

Arthur stiffened for a moment, Merlin gulping audibly with their eyes locked. Welcome to the Jungle blared through the air. He smiled and pressed their lips firmer together, his hands cupping Merlin's cheeks.

“I love you too,” he replied, Merlin sighing and giggling. “More than I love Billy idol.”

“Oh wow,” Merlin said with a little giggle, widening his eyes. “That's huge.”

“Hey, don't knock Billy Idol. His song was the soundtrack of our love making.”

Merlin laughed and wiggled, gripping Arthur's cock. His softening dick slide from Merlin's ass.

“You are ridiculous,” he laughed, swimming towards the deep end. 

He felt two strong hands grip his ankles before he was pulled backwards in the water. Their laughter echoed around the neighboring buildings. Arthur enveloped him into a deliciously warm (and naked) hug. 

**Sunday May 12**

Arthur woke up to Merlin's sleepy face smiling at him. He smiled back, lids lulling downward. He felt Merlin touching his open palm with light, gentle strokes.

“You don't have prune fingers anymore,” Merlin whispered. He lifted Arthur's hand to his face, pressing a kiss to each finger.

“We stayed in the water a long time.”

“We did.”

They smiled at each other, leaning in for a kiss.

“Sleep?” Merlin asked.

“Mmmm,” Arthur hummed in reply, wrapping Merlin in his arms.

A couple of hours later their iPhones just would not shut the fuck up.

“Gwaine's asking about brunch at Donna's with Lance and Gwen and Percy. Morgana might drop by too. Supposed to be there in an hour.”

“Yep,” Arthur said, scanning his iPhone with sleepy eyes. “I think we got the same text.” He tossed it on the bed and rolled back on top of Merlin. His arms encircled his body, front pressed to warm back. “Do you want to go?”

Merlin placed his phone on his bedside table. His eyes shut involuntarily. Whenever Arthur spooned him from behind his ability to remain alert flew out the window. Once Arthur's bare feet settled between his own, and Arthur started to do that lazy rub of his belly, Merlin was a complete goner. His brain might as well have been inserted into one of the MIA kilns. He was done for.

“Hmm, yeah, maybe, wanna?, dunno,” he babbled softly. Arthur laughed low and quiet against his neck. Merlin opened one eye a sliver. “Alarm?”

“Set one on my phone already.”

“Mmmhmm, you're my hero.”

Thirty-five minutes later, while in the shower, Merlin pondered, “You know, we haven't told them about us yet.”

Arthur wiped water from his eyes with his thumbs, shaking his head to rid himself of the last of his conditioner. He looked mildly amused at Merlin's comment, but was more interested in kissing him, which suited Merlin just fine. He twirled his finger in a small circle.

“Turn around.”

Merlin obeyed and turned his back to Arthur. Strong hands massaged his scalp, squeezing down the back of his neck to his shoulders and over his mid-back. Tingles raced through every inch of his body. Soap suds were massaged in and whisked away. Merlin's knees buckled, Arthur's arms holding him around the waist. 

“You always get all floppy when I do your back for you,” Arthur giggled.

“You don't just do my back, you fucking do my back.”

“Ah, okay. Great explanation.”

Merlin smiled and turned to say, “Shut up,” kissing him again. Arthur groaned and stepped backwards, Merlin's body pinning him to the white tile wall. 

“If you want to tell them we're together, we can tell them,” Arthur said, chest heaving into Merlin's. He looked up as his wrists were pinned above his head and against the wall. He hissed through his teeth, Merlin nibbling his right inner arm. “But they might be...”

Merlin glanced at him though his dark, wet eyelashes.

“Smug?” he offered.

Arthur nodded, hitching his hips forward. His dick brushed against Merlin's, both groaning softly. 

“So we won't say anything yet,” Merlin said quickly, dropping one hand to grip Arthur's cock. Arthur nodded and brushed their lips together, Merlin's fingers lacing between his own against the wall.

. . .

Gwaine laughed, “Where have you two been?”

Arthur and Merlin looked at each other. They probably should have spent more time planning their explanation for both showing up at the same time rosy cheeked and freshly showered. Upon seeing each other's relaxed expression they scowled, though neither looked truly angry. More like cartoon villain pissed. They both pulled their chairs closer to the table, causing a quiet scuffle of wood against wood.

“No idea where he's been,” Arthur said in his standard bored drawl, and fuck if the return of that indifference didn't make Merlin's cock twitch in his pants. Arthur's eyes dropped to his hands. “Probably pretending to paint or whatever he does to pass the time.”

“Fuck off,” Merlin muttered, picking up his menu. He felt a warm, familiar hand slide onto his thigh. Merlin bit his bottom lip, which actually aided in his attempt to look angry at Arthur. “I wonder what the special is for brunch today.”

“You would qualify for the special option.”

Merlin glared at Arthur, the blond's eyes glowing with excitement. His eyebrow quirked in challenge as his hand squeezed Merlin's lower hip, Merlin's chest heaving not to laugh aloud.

“Let's all split a pitcher of mimosas,” Gwen said cheerily, looking between the blond and brunet. “Sound good?”

“Sure, whatever,” Arthur drawled, “I just need coffee.”

The waitress came to their table and stood behind Merlin's chair. Arthur's hand slid off of Merlin's knee. Merlin looked longingly below the table. Arthur made a ring with his left fingers, repeatedly inserting two of his right fingers into the hole. Merlin burst out laughing, Arthur's lips turned up at the ends.

“What are you two doing over there?” Percy asked, laughter in his voice. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing,” Merlin said through his uncontrollable giggles. Arthur sighed and gestured for Merlin to order. “Nothing, um, I'll do,” he scrambled to read the brunch menu page, “the veggie strata, please. Coffee too, thank you.”

He watched Arthur order his swiss and spinach omelet without any giggles escaping. It was amazing how Arthur could switch on his serious side in public. Little did the waitress know that beneath the frigid, blond exterior was a silly boy who liked to marathon television shows on Merlin's laptop while cuddling naked in bed and cook Merlin grilled cheese at any hour and made Merlin laugh more than anyone ever. He also happened to be a lavish gift from the sex gods with the sweetest lips that ever were.

“Merlin?”

Merlin looked away from Arthur's hair, face bewildered. 

“Hm?” he hummed to the group. Gwaine was smirking, Percy sharing his expression, while Gwen and Lance looked confused. Arthur's expression remained neutral, though his hand was back on Merlin's thigh. “What's up?”

“I was just saying that you're in a daze this morning,” Lance said, brows furrowed. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I'm great,” he said, possibly too loud for the quaint cafe. Gwaine snorted through his nose, his hand flying to stifle a giggle. Merlin smiled despite the blush heating his cheeks. “Thanks, though. I'm fine, just sleepy.”

“You never made it to Brewers last night,” Gwaine said, eyes doing a dramatic roll from Arthur to Merlin. “You too, Arthur. Never made it. What were you doing, hm?”

Arthur cleared his throat and sipped his coffee, looking down at the table. Merlin just smiled wider and sipped his orange juice.

“Oh, that's right. You said you were going to stay in,” Gwen said. She smiled curiously at Merlin. “What'd you do?”

Merlin's eyes flicked to Arthur, who was already looking at him. 

“Um, just stayed in to do some work,” Merlin said.

“Yeah,” Arthur said, nodding. “Me too.”

If by work they both meant: Stayed in to watch all of season two of Game of Thrones and had an epic tickle fight, that led to an epic night of orgasms.

“Hm, wow, a couple of work-a-holics,” Gwaine said, batting his eyelashes. He and Percy caught eyes, the larger man's lips quirking in a smile. “Were you in the studios at school or--”

“Excuse me, gotta pee,” Merlin said, standing from the table suddenly.

“Wow, that's not gross to say at all,” Arthur said, nose wrinkled. “Very classy.”

“Shut up,” Merlin laughed. He pushed his chair into the table. “Everyone pees.”

He ruffled Arthur's hair as he passed, giving his scalp a quick scratch. Arthur smiled and settled into his chair, watching Merlin trot away. His eyes were glued to the easy sway of his slim hips, the curve of his ass making Arthur's fingers twitch against his warm coffee mug. 

His relaxation ended when he caught sight of everyone at the table staring at him. Gwen's eyebrows were nearly at her hairline, Lance's face finally lit with realization. Gwaine just looked smug and satisfied, Percy mischievously amused. He swallowed and stiffened his posture.

“So the O's did, uh, really good last night, hm?”

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out. No amount of CIA training would have been adequate to prevent the rabid flush of pleasure that raced up Arthur's neck when he saw Merlin's sleepy, smiling face come up on his caller ID. He pushed his chair back as he silenced the call.

“Sorry, need to take this,” he explained to the group, hurrying away from their table and towards the bathrooms. He held the phone up to his ear and loudly said, “Hey, Joe, nice to hear from you! How's that project? Yeah? How's it--”

“Who the fuck is Joe?” Merlin breathed against his lips, pulling him into the men's room.

Arthur replied, “Joe mama,” and shoved the phone in his back pocket, a hot body already clinging tight to his own. 

Merlin's head fell backwards against the wall, his belly vibrating with wild giggles. Arthur smiled and kissed his bottom lip, then his chin, then to his neck. Merlin hummed and cupped his cheeks, bringing their lips together. 

The door opened suddenly. Merlin and Arthur stopped kissing to glare at whoever interrupted their--

“Oh, well, lookie here,” Gwaine practically crowed, grinning from ear to ear. Merlin and Arthur laughed and tried to get out of the bathroom, but Gwaine blocked the doorway. He jingled a key in his hand. “What on earth are you two doing in here?” He craned his neck into the cramped space, Merlin already laughing and Arthur rolling his eyes with a smile. “Is Joe in here? That's who you were talking to, right Arthur?”

“Alright, alright, you've got us,” Arthur laughed, gently shoving Gwaine out of the way.

“I knew you were fucking someone!” Gwaine declared, pointing both of his fingers at Merlin. “Oh, this is just too fucking good! Wait until Morgana finds out! And Gwen! And--”

Gwaine's giggles faded as he ran back to the dining room, the painter and the potter able to hear his exciting voice through the doors. Arthur turned to Merlin, smirking. He slid their hands together. 

“C'mon, we'd better go face them.”

“Our sexy secret is out,” Merlin giggled.

Merlin's arms rested on Arthur's shoulders while they kissed deeper, slower, both savoring the warmth of each other. 

All until Gwen's voice shouting, “WHAT!?” made it through the doors and their friends attacked them like an avalanche.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that got a whole lot longer than I anticipated. I hope anyone who read enjoyed the ride! I have a background in music conservatory, which is probably why I couldn't not include a music school somewhere. I apologize for any art school errors!
> 
> Based on this lovely prompt:
> 
> Prompt: Arthur and Merlin are art students, working in different disciplines. Perhaps one is an installation artist or sculptor and the other a painter? They dislike each other immediately and spend years trying to outdo one another, warring through their work, though never actually interacting much outside of group critiques, etc. Both grudgingly accept the other is very talented and admire each other's work (they'd NEVER say this to each other out loud). 
> 
> Always aware of one another and thinking they hate each other and silently thinking the other to be obnoxious and arrogant, it takes a third party's undivided attention (which character is up to author) and unrelenting wooing of one of them to suddenly bring the other to his senses, hopefully after years of being oblivious to being in lust with each other. Would love a happy ending!


End file.
